I would never
dance naked but

my Shadow frolics like ocean kelp
twirls sways gyrates
from room to room blinds not drawn
Man in the Moon winks

I would never waltz
in tight dress but

my Shadow dons silver gown
metallic mermaid skin
every bulge crack cleavage
solo-dances a sexy tango

I would never walk
without marked path but

my Shadow raucously stomps an Apache dance
through field of daisies with impulse
to decorate her buttonhole

I would never hop a tall fence
that shouts “Do not enter” but

my Shadow careens over
says “It’s unkind to keep us on this side
it’s greener over there”

I would never jitterbug
with my “Do Not Open” dreams but

my shadow shreds wrappings lip syncs
gavottes with each hidden dishonored longing
like from a deck of cards she chooses one

I would never abandon her
even with vastly different dance styles but

Shadow warns,
“If you won’t tap dance wild
on the hood of a rusted old car
I’m packing my bag”

Marianne Lyon

The Order of Mass
Finding Ourselves Rooted