Bare

 

Money where your mouth is.

 

Bare

In the seats, she sits
tight,
muscles close,
curled,
covered with
layers against the fright
of exposure.

She can’t do what
they …
spread
aware
available
dare.

Where do they hide
the view inside
clear
from the back of the room?

The seams are all
she has
for protection
behind her seams
she seems
unstoppable
un-top-able.

She holds the words
and directs the steps.

She says when they
all
stop.

And she pulls her knees
in,
as the other she arches
away
from her
and they both
wish they had the words

to take away every word

she’s piled on
layer
on top of
thin on top of
thick
that isn’t deep enough.

Not enough to hide.
Not enough to…
Don’t take that off,
don’t take that away.

She moves like that
in her mind.
Unattached.
Unrestricted.
Ungartered
she gathers
the tokens,
the flattery,
the anxious
unctuous
words
for the brass
she knows them to be.

She’s cold.
Her mind
reminds.
She stops moving like them.
Starts not moving
like her.

She binds herself
again,
constricting love,
breath, belief, trust;
where those dig in her ribs,
but al least she’s the one
pulling at the stays.
And that won’t hurt
as much as
a vacant chest.

Waiting,
for another dance,
another chance,
to care enough
to let even one
see her.

Barely.
Truly.
Bare.

My new novel about vulnerability, exposure and regaining ownership of ourselves Drowning Above Water is available now through Amazon. 

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