Luna, her name
and the shape of her shoulders,
and the centre spheres of her collarbone, knuckles.
question marks inflated.
Digging fingers between ribs as keys
they sang in semi-tones
sang in semi-tones to Luna,
with wishes held tight in the corners of their eyes,
And round, round, soft to floor,
with staccato breath,
and breath like stone,
pebbles falling to floor
(palms and pockets opened to floor).
The surface of the moon
was projected to the white of her skirt,
craters against thighs
and the crackle of old film
dimpling knees,
She saw faces when she looked down,
not a man in the moon,
but many,
and children too
and women, alone.
(and on the inside of her skirt,
a waist drawn tightly inwards,
the crinoline outwards).
and above,
her hands speaking,
the moon’s tongue in her throat.
From the author:
I am on a mission to promote the integration of poetry to the process of ‘reviewing’ or responding to dance performances. I feel that the experience of dance supercedes the judgment attached to work (ex: That was a ‘good’ piece; I didn’t ‘like’ that show etc …), and that reviews or responses to creative performances should focus on experience over judgment. By responding through words, creating some semblance of poetry, I feel that the ephemeral art of dance is extended into a larger ‘lifetime’ as well as to a larger audience.
Tagged: Contemporary, Performance, ON , Toronto
