I attend a works-in-progress showing, featuring new choreographers    

One dancer vogues in a morph suit and character shoes

Another throws silk flowers on the ground

The third deals mostly with their shadow

A mic pings at dog whistle pitch and the sound guy looks irritated

about spending his Thursday night here. I bought a ticket in advance

because I desperately needed something to do. It was a whole month

of heat shocking my brain like the comedown of an acid trip.

The flop of my nail bed 

like a door in a storm. I just don’t know

who deserves to be commended

for sustaining a voice for this many pages

who is not disposable