Here I am, laughing boisterously-
Nobody misses the flying hair,
the static twinkle in the eye,
the fingers wrapped around my waist,
a sliver of skin where the dress slips off my shoulder.
A moment captured for posterity.
Those who see, think-
“At the still point, there the dance is.”
The hair is unwashed, the dress is burlap,
the fingers are leaving a mark,
the twinkle is the reflection of artifice.
I am laughing at myself.