she has a style January 12

When she finds her colours,
she is seen swimming in the buzz
of first fires, the zing of dancing shoes
hitting the floor.
She has a style
her mind has stories
meditated upon,
she won’t listen
and she won’t tell
but she will sing with the same band,
fall forcefully on the floor –
refuse to crash.
Simply breathing like a candle-stick
is not the remedy.

She’s got a style,
she wants to look over the hill
search for fire
smile easily, as easily as
milk spilt on waxed floor maybe.