Most dances are cries. Try to pin them in place.
Look away from ash—a boy and a girl
loving that boy: screams and statues
flash-frozen against a night sky bleached white.
You and I are flesh. We slam together under a disco ball
moon that shreds the clouds. Our verbing legs reverb rhythm.
Light gilds your teeth. Another house shatters. The radio wobbles.
Chuck D. demands we fight the power and my hips swivel
a battle cry. As long as our feet pound
ground we’re alive. The night shines. We explode.
We blink out the shine and darkness re-dawns.
The alarms die. Evening spreads: a patient bleeding on a table.
No ether. Dogs bark. I catch your mouth
with mine, eat vapor, and know tonight we die.
Ki Russell is currently a doctoral candidate in the University of Louisiana at Lafayette’s English department where she also serves as poetry co-editor of Rougarou: an Online Literary Journal. Outside of academia, Ki has a wonderful son and husband who put up with her eccentricities with pretty good humor. She often steals time from sludging through academic drear to wrestle with words, converse with a gray cat, and paint. She believes people should laugh more. Her work has appeared in places such as Fifth Wednesday Journal, Rio Grande Review, Sugar House Review, and in the forthcoming anthology Moment of Change (Aqueduct Press). She has a chapbook entitled How to Become Baba Yaga published by Medulla Publishing in October 2011.