ALL Magazine May 2016 | Page 47

Front Woman

I'm on a stage.
Lights drip color onto my skin every time your faces
bleed God faces,
straining to please the muses.
Every hit of drum, strum of guitar, thumbing of bass
slams me into frenetic layers of heat.
I am not reduced.
Instead I am lifted to your levels.
I fly in-between the language you
speak to one another
until I finally click into its syllables.

(©Cyndi Dawson 2016)