I tried to dance. Awkward and unsure, I judged the other imperfect souls in the circle. Then I closed my eyes and listened. I stopped trying to dance, to be in control, and just did it, just danced. Just celebrated everything, wheat and chaff. I danced for a long time. Later I reached up to wipe the sweat from my forehead, surprised by a handful of oil.When was the last time you were surprised by 'a handful of oil' on your forehead?
Daniel Bowman Jr.'s poems were published in issue #10 of Cha.