Face the shame of our dances—
nothing knocks like hidden failure.
I am a womb
covered in dust.
Words are silently standing over this abyss.
“We have been waiting,”
But the light keeps my idiot mask
from breaking open.
Who am I to judge the simple foot?
It touches and travels
‘cross the silky grandeur of your leg.
I could not ask you on a date.
So the depths guard you,
there is no other.