You people say there is no dancing
allowed here. As if we can be stopped.
As if you yourselves would spin the Earth
in one direction and would stop our feet
from shifting, shuffling, double-stepping
in the other. Thrust against a funnel cloud
we spiral outward - nothing stops our falling
away. As if you can ignite and yet contain
a spark. As if we will be held. It's what we do
instead of catching fire. The heavy strand
between you and us stretches to a thread -
taut and precious. You yourselves have shaken
dust from a dirty rug. Rocked the water.
Don't believe you can anchor our bumping
bobbing bodies treading the surface.
This is what we do instead of drowning.
You people beat the drum, you pipe the tune.
We can only dance, hands outstretched.