Do Not Throw Away
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