Matchstick and men

Written by: Asante Indira

Smoke me out and cancer
I remember when I was your stick thin, pretty grin, dimple in the chin
--nice dancer

And your navel, the bucket of my quench,
catches the spins of your call and my answer
And when your hand grabs elbows
and I laugh and spin at the ribboning of my temples
I know this is the stop
You see, I boom for you and you just pop
So I snap back turn and swing
You're the pendulum of my happening
You're my lay down, stay down call and no answer
So I ricochet, piqué, split and go faster
but I find you, the keeper of my feet
The loud raping the meek
Sudden master

Do you remember me?
Stick thin. Life's grim. What's a dancer?