|Danseuse ajustant sa bretelle, 1895-96, Edgar Degas|
and hang my poems on those.
I have heard my poems humming songs,
with much dignity and grace.
I take the visions in my stride.
when my muse goes to sleep
I do not miss it.
I take down one of the poems,
rearrange the words to gain a new one
my buckle too gets heavy
"the years have helped me navigate
my dance moves with the poems
so that I do not lose the instant of black and white"