.dance.

Dance
By Kim Addonizio

When you are finally, magically, able to clone yourself into several identical women, so that each one can move toward a man who’s been waiting for his turn to come around for the first time, or maybe again,won’t you be happy then,all of you together in a lustrous ballroom,each woman wearing her distinguishing number,

the judges scoring everyone the same, music spilling from the bandstand, the men thrilled to be near you, each one whispering a different pet name, each one polishing with his black shoes a perfect circle of floor
while
      he
         raises
                 you
                     up, holding your hips in his hands, gazing at you with his brown or mottled green eyes, looking down with his startling blue ones, taking you into a corner then spinning you out toward the center where the light from the mirrorball splinters over your skin, sidereal as your sequined dress, and you feel as complete as you’ll ever feel, moving through all your true and beautiful lives

while the real one pales.