Dancing Without Clothes

I hid in a cigar box

with my marbles, yo-yo,

and comic books.

I hid my hunger to be heard and feted.

I hid desire and expression.

I hid well and forgot I was lost.

A discard among discards,

the box awaited memory’s turn.

Years of digging placed it in my hands.

Years of habit impelled me to put it back.

Too late.

The old undenied won’t be redenied.

So I read my poetry to a beloved friend,

who listens with the silence

of a dry forest welcoming rain.

And once begun,

once received,

I cannot stop.

Such shame at the yearning:

Take me in.

Tell me how good I am.

I’m six again:

Watch me dance.

Do you like my drawing?

I’d vowed never again.

So raw.

Such a hole,

this needy,

naked,

unfed me.