by Heather Ball

They were dancing in tongues,
these wild men and women.
Speaking in steps,
And their long hair
Whipped around them

A dance, but it wasn’t.
A ritual without religion.
The power of their bodies
was the only power in the room.

It’s been said that such displays
Are indecent.
Too far outside the waltz box.

Movement like an undulating membrane.
Then like a sharp-beaked bird of prey.

They are not the same snakes clutched in talons as I.
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Heather Ball

Heather Ball is an English Language Arts teacher in the Arkansas Delta. She enjoys writing poetry and personal essays about the minutia of life and the complexities of interpersonal relationships. She holds a Bachelor of Arts in English from The University of the Ozarks.

Artist: Auguste Rodin