Midnight Lessons

I don’t dance to be watched.

I dance to remember what confidence feels like

when it has nowhere to hide.

The room is still.

The music barely breathes.

My fingertips trace cool brass until it knows

my name.

I move slowly because beautiful things never rush.

After Hours

When the world has finally quieted, I meet myself under warm lamps and soft music.

No deadlines.

No highway.

No expectations.

Just a woman, a pole, and enough courage to become art.

Floetry: Tiny Desk Concert