choreovore

My eyes occasionally stumble,
with the dancer you are
as a partner, I can't help
your gracefulness

takes
precedence, and leads
consequence astray, my eyes
awry, but I follow - as best I can, and so
am drawn in. Your steps,

like a web,
are weaving, and woven,
and warped, and weft, and deft
as I try to be
- caught.
Dead-
center,
my eyes are read
with intent,
by you, with surprise as I'm sure
you've read faces
and hands,
and eyes
before. Caught dead
to rights, and whatever was planned,
for one of these nights at least, at
last, we have finally both been caught
at a glance, and (I hope)
we both
understand,
we can have this dance.