In your rich indigo gown
you dance along Boylston Street
and astound lawyers and accountants
whose briefcases anchor them
to a sedate, Darwinian world.
You flaunt your color with gestures
so acrobatic they disprove
everything we learned in high school
when our bodies often betrayed us.
Your gown is not an act of clothing
but of atmosphere. It exclaims
your single dimension in rage
wiser than the average wildfire.
No one can follow your dance steps
because they light on air rather
than the sidewalk, their startle
of choreography too complex
for the human engine to engineer.
May I rename you after yourself
and render you human enough to trace
in the thick but well-meaning sky?
The indigo shimmers to conceal
everything telling around you,
including my lifelong obsession
with those parts of you that bend.
About the Author
William Doreski lives in Peterborough, New Hampshire. He has taught at several colleges and universities. He has published three critical studies, including Robert Lowell’s Shifting Colors. His essays, poetry, fiction, and reviews have appeared in various journals. His most recent collection is No Vacancy (2025).
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