Dancer
The dancer with no legs
moves swiftly around the room,
knocking over the vase, and
gracefully turns to the window.
"I wish I were like the moon,"
She calls out into the night.
Her vain wishes like stones crash
through the window toward the stars.
I shift my legs to keep
one from falling asleep.
"Sometimes, I want to fall asleep,"
She tells me, “And never wake up."
Her strong arms lift the body
from wheeled chair to sofa.
And somewhere in the distance
Her stones splash into the ocean.
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