She picks me up, CD player
blasting the voices of a thousand
women, together in ceremony.
Leaves blur together yelloworangered
passing by, as my own voice joins them,
the air whooshing through
open windows, in agreement.
A dull ache in my belly contracts
to the beat, a reminder of fear
and the blood pooling between
my thighs. Great literature and sweet fruits
sit passenger’s side, awaiting our reunion.
The drums pulse, pounding out my thoughts,
I am clean once more. She puts me down.
Dance Fever (Live at Madison Square Garden)
Lillian Fuglei