The train carries on,
the man with a limp in the traffic vest carries on.
aimless vessels find purpose in rhythm.
I trace along the inner parts of my thighs and
wonder how much deeper
I can get in the splits tomorrow.
Sun trickles on my chest,
My body feels warm,
My strength is in ribbons
sewn onto my palms and across
the bridge of my nose,
I feel it all the way down
to my bad luck heels.
I’m not so sure I believe in bad luck anymore,
not since I’ve been making my own luck.
but only for truth.
If I get what I deserve,
I’ll see mountains.
I am worth everything.
I am my everything.
My body is my strength.
My soul has always been on fire,
my body has always known the rhythm,
I have not always been brave enough to dance,
but now I am.
I dance within the confines of my solace,
in the openness of a stranger’s party.
I have never loved myself quite so much,
I can only imagine
how much stronger my love to someone
else will be than in the past.
But I’d rather not imagine now,
instead I’d rather close my eyes,
listen to the trains that never change,
breathe in warmer air,
and thank myself
the person I’ve always knew
was somewhere deep inside of me.