photo by Fleur Brown

/don’t give me your polite

Don’t give me your polite

rolled up neat and tight,

all show,

like sock soldiers,

inside your bedroom drawer.

I don’t want your should

scrubbed up, pink and clean

like bridal skin.

Not what you ought,

just what you would.

Put away your strong

the weight of being right or wrong.

Give me your wild,

free dancing like a child,

to an Afro Latin beat,

under the spangled light of a silver disco ball –

life’s perfect chaos,

that is all.