Dance, as They Can’t Look Now

Dance like no one is watching—
Existing at all—
Or pretend they all are
To keep them watching

And if they continue to stare
Dance more
Go berserk
Make them wince

Keep spinning
Dance near them
Bump into them
Poison their quiche

Advance further
Get them out their seats
Pour questions over them
Enforce anxiety

Provide aftercare
Burn the dance floor
Spit on the carpet
Piss in the complimentary wine

Sleep with their partner
Show them a nameless god in your crotch
Tickle their pet
Burn all their books and shadow puppet a rework

Dribble in their mouths
Offer to touch them right, well, correctly
Sing the wrong words and shrug
Stand still staring at the wall

Eat meat and reveal your favourite football team
Ask yourself what you’re willing to do with them when you’re both furious
Notice them sweating, hard, wet
Spin off making them chase

Point them back to their chair
Reference mummy watching over them
Suggest a slow one first
Stare at them until they choose whose arms they’ll die in tonight—forever.

Or pretend
        

They are all gone—
That you dance alone.
That was back then; they can’t look now.
They can’t look now at all.

(A version of this poem was first published as ‘Dance Like It Was Back Then And It’s Gone’ in A New Ulster, Issue 116, August 2022 (https://issuu.com/amosgreig/docs/anu116))