Someone new turns the bass up.
It vibrates through my fingers
and feet. This body—It’s open
though I’m swathed in a sweatshirt
and jacket. Is this dance music?
Friends laugh and move,
the lights so low I can’t see
who I am. Your scent
on my clothes, your hand
up my blouse. We ran through
cornfields to get here. Not really.
I’m walking wet sidewalks
in our neighborhood, pink petals
falling, their skin to my skin.
So many scars on this body.
Are you sleeping? Wet petals fall.
Your sweet breathing, our big bed.
Music like madwomen typing.
Barbara Daniels’ book, Rose Fever, was published by WordTech Press, and her chapbooks Black Sails, Quinn & Marie, and Moon Kitchen were published by Casa de Cinco Hermanas Press. Her poetry has appeared in Prairie Schooner, Mid-American Review, and elsewhere. She received three fellowships from the New Jersey State Council on the Arts.