The Dancer

O, look at that agile dancer

Her graceful moves strips,

Even the hallowed of men,

The ever pricey decorum

Look at that purple dress,

How it fits her so snugly,

As though it was part of her skin,

Holy men’s stray at her sight

Look at how she holds her glass,

As though it were filled with holy water,

Yes, it sure is, for Jesus made it,

Instead of milk

Hear the music booming,

As though revelers are partially deaf,

Some attempt dance moves,

Yet manage to look like frail leaves

Stuttering in a fierce wind

It’s time to head home,

Many to angry wives left in the cold,

Some to cold homes that embrace

The voids they’ve been seeking to bury