She danced all night and suddenly
it was all about being
loved like a woman ought
and I thought I would die
of gin and adoration, I thought
if only I could freeze this dance
into a loop, carve it out of whitefaced
time and paste it into a sea of brown,
if only the earth permitted the holding
of hands across borders, heroes and grandchildren
would be born, but it was just a Berlin night
with the earth still spinning drunk off her axis,
that if it weren’t for fucking gravity, she could fucking
love the sun again.

—

More of Kyla Pasha’s poems from High Noon and the Body HERE.