Standing on my single bed
barefoot on pink bedspread,
spreading my arms,
precise quiver of shoulders,
slight jerk to the elbows,
and lifting, lifting, to circle,

to circle and circle
under the light fixture.

I would have flown
right out my open window
there on the thirteenth floor
except I was still too young
and wasn’t allowed outside
alone at night. But tonight,

tonight, how I can still feel it
in my old shoulders.