Robert Davidson, Trapeze Dancer

2013 String Poet Prize 3rd Place

You fly and I am you.
Your right hand
locks on your trapeze
mine curls

tight in my pocket.
Like heart beats
from stage right
drums and flutes. You fly
buoyed in blue air
I know how it feels to die.

Stagelight strobes your eyes
flashing cellophane stars
extruding a limb of light
to me. I look out
through your eyes.
Magnetized I am you.

We are a jaguar
swooping. We
levitate silently
from prehistoric tarpits
of ordinary life to dance
a pas-de-deux
and I am you

until you smile
in the bow light
embracing applause.
My hands sting,
widow of feats
of association.