Category Archives: Fang & Claw
Backbeat
I have danced in public once in my life.
For my wedding.
Took a lesson.
But I secretly dance every day,
though I guess it’s no longer a secret.
For the dogs,
and the setting shadow
against the back wall.
All attempted rhythms
and contorted shapes,
but my Byrne is spot on.
They know:
if sound and fury
finds a backbeat,
it signifies everything.
And sometimes,
when the song ends
and the room cools again,
I stand still in the quiet.
One breath,
two,
and wait to see
if the house will dance back.
Most nights it doesn’t.
But some evenings,
the dogs catch it:
their paws thump the floor,
their tails swing in time,
and the room moves again,
alive in its own applause.
Proof of Moments
there’s dirt in the air
and laughter far off
and the afternoon smells like bark and sweat
the earth softens
into teeth and breath
and the simple proof of moments
i think about poets
who wrote about gods
and realize they never met a face like yours
you don’t chase meaning
you walk right up to it
you remind me
that every good life
starts with curiosity
and pulses
through the dust
through the noise
through a world that still belongs
to anyone willing to notice it
