Thank
you
for
visiting.

 
The Dancer

"Dancer me!"  She shouts
and we are all forced to watch.
Her two left feet flip flopping
before carelessly tripping her up.

Most people say she's mentally
challenged, a select cruel few
call her retarded, their voices venomous,
though unmistakably ignorant.

Her name is Becca.  She was born
58 days premature to a woman whose
own life was in such a state of disrepair
we can hardly point fingers, place blame.

I am one of her caretakers and so
there are days when it's all I can do
to stay level headed, to remain patient.

Today we are especially tired, us caretakers.
Just having returned from taking our charges,
these adult-sized children, to see the Nutcracker.

Becca has landed, backside to the floor.
She sits mildly shaken, unsure whether
or not to cry.

I bring my palms together, clapping,
as do the others, as we all give her
a standing ovation, until she smiles,
hideously happy now, I shout,
"Dancer you Becca!  Dancer you!"


short autobio

I am a poet and essayist currently residing in Mesa, Arizona with my husband and two children.  When not writing I work for the Phoenix division of a national brokerage.  My favorite pastimes include:  reading, roller blading and discovering new poets via the internet.  I find a never ending supply of talent "out there" and so, a never ending supply of inspiration.  Some favorites are:  Scott Holstad, Charles Bukowski, Wendy Carlisle, John Woods, James Whitcomb Riley.  Though some of what I believe are my best works have come when I just let go, speak the truth, regardless of the outcome. 


email  ~ Moongate