Round by KW

It’s a dance, what we do, that takes us round and round in circles. Sometimes your left foot moves back and my right forward together in time with the rhythm. Other times, we each stamp out the beat of our own melodies which swirl rapidly in concentric circles that often bump headlong into one another before vibrating off to opposite ends.

It’s a crowded dance floor, where we are, but I can always feel your pulse through the other paces wrapping around me in time with the music. We coil, we curl, we curve around the hurdles strewn haphazardly throughout, never forgetting the sound reverberating through our skin.

We weave loose trails like twisting ribbon around what wavers between us; we come round again to the vibration between us, to what tingles our insides coming up through the floor boards. We slide and bump until we are one, rumbling along in unison with the earth beneath us.

We wrap around one another endless and thoughtlessly and thoughtfully, the cadence of our movements becoming a predictable pattern, ratcheting out the rhythm of us, overtaking whomever is between us and knowing that our beat comes first above all else. We stomp out the beat of us.