for M
*
My dancing is not what it was she says
And no longer a dash on a page,
but fully fledged, developed,
a roaring sense of possibility.
She would not look me in the eyes.
She refused to hold my gaze
yet spoke through her essence
regardless
Impaled my mind
with brighter colors
Than any I had seen before.
Yes.
I also was born in the light, she smiles,
sharing this often unkind mark,
its glory
and its sorrow.
Sometimes we must quarrel for our tranquility.
Often, we rinse out our expectations.
Every fear.
Through the lens of my camera
Her frame
is framed,
Simultaneously luscious
and spare.
I love the way her neck falls into
Soft lines.
It is only through the lens
that her eyes
finally, lock with mine.
She does not flinch.
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