Posted: April 29, 1993 in Poetry

and for a split second he paused
figuring out how he got here,
a room full of people dressed in color
swirling as if the floor
was too hot to touch.
he never wanted as much
to stop the music, wonder where
he learned to move like this,
a stutter step that you can’t resist
admiring: sculpture in motion –
everyone knows he creates as he goes
– so it comes full circle like his limbs.

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