dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: dance

You and I pirouette 
Under floodlights and
Bow with fresh
Foliage swirling around our
Pointed toes.

We look up
Just as the curtain falls
With gleams
From spotlights overhead.

Sitting cold like the
Wet grass,
We smile exhaustion
Until the stage shakes
An unyielding encore.

Your sounds

Are mentholated music,

Giggle-shouts and whisper-songs

Swirl into the wall’s pores,

Soothing and stretching

Exiled toys and the timeout corner

Into a colorful oblivion.

We ride the stained magic carpet to

Your stereo smile

And like dancing bears,

Forget our manners

And the time

But always remember to sing

Ourselves to sleep

To the off-beat rhythm of fun.

Our tongues lie down

Like breeze-brushed

Hayfields in the summertime,

Dry but alive

And dancing

In their own weary way,

Each golden grain

Saying much with little

Snake-like flicks,

Sharply sentencing

The sky forever to

The cracked clay.

with honeysuckle stems

for fiddle strings

and dried pine needles

spread thick for dancin’,

deer and squirrels

and anything with wings

can meet in the middle

of the shady woods

and stop and listen

to the whistlin’ breeze

as it races

through the branches.

Dancing like bees
On the sticky kitchen floor,

Glad to be home
In their comb

So they shake
Dusty feet

Some more.
They hover hardworking

When the sun’s
In the sky,

Then head home
To honey,

To sweet happiness

   Moccasin feet tap

                        Toe, heel.

    Tasseled, painted, Shuffling,

                        Circle the

                 Towering fire,

                            Eyes tracking

                   smoke spirals

            Into the sky.

                   Souls feel

                  The drum beat,

  Rumbling like distant herds,

                  Sounds as flat

                             As the river rocks.


Simple and sweet

As a butterfly dance,

She floats along,

Barely brushing the ground

With her tiny toes,

Pink and soft as flower petals.

Stray silky wisps,

Like honeysuckle vines,

Escape the ribbon in her hair.


Her dirty,

Jagged fingernails

Reach down to scratch

Swollen chigger bites

That pulse and scream

Like ambulance sirens

On her little white legs.

She’d donned her brightest sundress

To dance in the wheat field

Just like the women

She’d seen smiling

On television commercials.

Blood trickles as she scrapes

The irritation and the shame,

But her teeth,


Shine between two tiny rosy lips

For now she knows she is