A slow long build
A suite of songs
Of turning around and not quite in view
Prickling tingling legs or not legs
Song song song
Mommy mommy mommy
With the forcefulness of a note child
Dress up to rant again
“This is what the funeral was like:” skipping
Christening dance stage as danceable
Contained skips and step step brush

Write something and throw bricks at it
Yell something and harmonica at it
Sing something and scream at it
Give us everything and smile at it

Finalizing in the final scream
That David couldn’t stay seated for

And about that final scream
It grew and grew past itself
Flicked and flopped and sweat and pulled up took off stripped off
Wanna go to the club to lose yourself
As if to remember you’ve never been contained so well
As if to remember why you can take on “the right to dance” and let it explode you
Fury and ecstasy I think they called that section
You/I write because they have a knack for making you feel the me could be you