Dance

by Lydia Rae Bush

It seems the constellations have killed each other.
Leo taking Hercules’ finger, Orion wearing Scorpius’ sting.

I don’t know that we’re fit for the stars.

Could you ever be mapped?
I’m no course by which to chart.

But I would lay down jagged edges
forever to ride our shape.

Here,
where we don’t kill each other.

Here,
permanent, unfixed.

Eternal,
spinning,

a novel shine, a pattern evolving.

Us taking each other’s hands,
wearing them like two rings.

Lydia Rae Bush (she/her) is a poet exploring themes of embodiment and social-emotional development. Rae’s work is Best of the Net nominated and appears in publications such as Querencia Press, Corporeal, and Bleating Thing. When not writing, Lydia can be found singing and dancing, especially in bed when she is supposed to be going to sleep. Her chapbook “Free Bleeding” is out now with dogleech books.

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