Waxy little strings, Wrapped about my wrists, Wavy crossy things, Working bodies twists, Where now do my feet, Writhe above the floor, Wading through mistreat, Whining from the bore, Why I hold my eyes, Washes through my mind, Watching all likewise, ...
Hannah Kilfoyle
He's at ease, his body sculpted to the music, his shoulder searching the other shoulder, his right toe knowing the left knee, the height, the depth, the form, the control, the twist of his wrist, the bend of his elbow, the tilt of his neck, notes dig...
Dancer