La Clase de Baile- Description of Dance Class

By: Cindy Moon

A movement so free

Imitation of despair

As good-byes are swiftly said.

A faint voice shouts

For assistance from those

Who are evidently vainer.

A harlot in pink satin.

May I say I feel

Great animosity towards?

That piece of fabric

She calls clothing

Makes her look of abject poverty.

A golden ignorant adornment.

Spare me the thoughts

I don’t want to die

A stream of talent-less confidence

She sways her hips like she knows.

I mock that evanescent security.

So nimble be the feet that cross

The barren wasteland; anomaly

When I reach the other side.

My eyes start to water

Crimson bloody rose red

Lucid purifying tears

The shock travels up and down

My spinal cord.

Dear, cerebrum, what have you done?

My legs tremble in fear.

And crack into a thousand

Popping fragments.

I once saw you alive.

Now I see you conformed.

What have they done to you?