It seems not a thing in the universe is moving.
The leaves on all the trees
are completely still,
No airplanes are flying overhead.
Even our little earth isn’t spinning.
Our littler moon isn’t circling,
that right now is lit white,
looking tiny and cold
as a snowball I once hurled
at my older brother,
only to be pummeled later
with ice chunks and his fists.
I looked up at the sky
while I took my beating,
wanting only to be a cloud
passing over the moon’s happy squint.
Tonight, I want to be that little girl again
the day before life got hard.
If I could have, I would have learned how
to dance from inside my bones.
Imagine me now,
twirling and twirling and twirling,
propeller-like in the ghostly moonlight
and not a thing to stop me.
This poem originally appeared in Dance From Inside My Bones published by Snake Nation Press 2007.
Lana Ayers is a poet, novelist, publisher, Hedgebrook Alumna and time travel enthusiast. She facilitates Write Away™ generative writing workshops, leads private salons for book groups, and teaches at writers’ conferences. She is obsessed with exotic flavors of ice cream, Little Red Riding Hood, and monochromatic cats and dogs. She holds an MFA in Poetry from New England College and an MFA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University. In addition to thriving in the book-loving culture, she enjoys Seattle’s bountiful rain and abundant coffee shops. Her favorite color is swirl. Read more of Lana’s work at LanaAyers.com.
Favorite poets: “I always look forward to reading Dorianne Laux and rereading Pablo Neruda. I will never be done with Sylvia Plath or Edna St. Vincent Millay. Plus I have published some of the best poets in the Pacific Northwest.”
Note from Lana: “I will soon be seeking ice cream poems for an anthology edited by Patricia Fargnoli to be published by World Enough Writers. Get those delectable poems ready to send!”