Once, I accepted the audience
already assembled. I began and continued
without waiting any longer.
Once, on a winter day that threatened
to cancel the show, I said instead, yes,
to that voice from the wings
that whispered, but I’m here.
Once, in the hot, salted embrace
of a Saturday bath in a freshly scrubbed
tub, the question appeared
like a perfect, naked bar of dark chocolate:
what if you made me your pleasure?
Grey Sparrow Journal 