Reserve

Something harsh in her reserve a curious grey

Not of dawn nor moon pretty hard favored

But the shape that is no hallucination

Unsteady only because her body is touching

This need to satisfy this demand this high

Rise of her white above leotard insistent

On a meeting reaching each for the other

I know she doesn’t really exist

Only the appearance of her exists

Her mind selecting just the reflections

Out of all that she is seeing her

Beliefs mere uneasy after growths to

The rhythm the ritual the strangeness

So vividly imagined that it’s done