The boy invited himself along. He jumps
in the photo. He places his mouth near mine
but I am tired of trying to fit my mouth in someone else’s.
I think of making my tongue into an artifact, untouchable.
I try to dance with the boy. He says he does not dance
and I say not even on the night of our lives? Not even
to celebrate the existence of your own body? The boy decides
to run away until his body forgets it’s his body
and he becomes a horse. I place him on the carousel
with the other beasts, teach him to do horse things.
In fear of losing my form I dance in the black box
with other half-formed beings. Our bodies, more
than bodies, reflective. Afterwards, I assess the damage:
every cupcake eaten, streamers torn from the walls,
the sky denatured and clotting into night.
Someone has run off with the horse/boy/body.
From the wreckage of the party we make a shrine to our youth
to burn for one night only.