Some of the best dancing
happens at home in the kitchen,
in the living room. I don’t often
dance, but sometimes a body
needs to shake off shame
of the world. Right now, I dance
as if there were a deep ocean
at the meeting of my thighs,
one there to keep invasion
at bay, a noble prevention
of blown-out buildings,
of bowed heads. All
of the horrors that go
with war. We have been
watching them unfold,
shocked, even though
we knew they would come,
knew they would be there
in this new war.
*
Long ago, the goddess looked
straight ahead like a deer watching,
like a wolf, like a lion, a bear.
She cast spells of love and justice
with each spoken word.
The goddesses today
have been made into statues
with lowered gazes
as if the air were already dust.
*
I dance in the kitchen
with lights on, music eases
out of speakers. I want to dance
hard enough to sweat, for rain
to fall, for peace to be
a spell we can still cast.
—Liza Wolff-Francis
Saturday's Sirens 