I keep my feet moving,
in fervent hope that it will keep my mind stepping in place,
that I can prevent that slide,
that clumsy slipping toward the edge.
The head of this pin has little room to spare
but I have been told to dance,
so with artful hands and smilemask fixed firm,
the drop blurring into star trails around the outskirts.
And I wonder about that slide,
I feel the pull and hear it hint that the
last seconds of the fall
would be the most fulfilling,
a whole and glittering life before my eyes,
but I am no angel,
I have no wings,
nothing would carry me,
nothing would save the dance.
Its call would be the last I answered,
and I am not ready to ring down the curtain,
and if the tune is changing,
my dance must adapt.
If others join me I must be ready to show them the steps,
willing to share the slick and silver space,
willing to be crowded,
willing to hold on
And I keep my feet moving,
and I keep my mind moving,
and I just