naked dance
I am in an imaginary video call with someone.
She is wearing a revealing top.
I ask her gently if she would consider wearing something more covering.
I want to talk to her without being distracted.
She will be doing me a favor.
If she can’t respect that request,
I know I won’t continue the conversation.
Breathing becomes so soft, so effortless.
Breathing feels like entering.
Breathing is penetrating.
A bed.
A woman and a man.
With form, but no faces.
Naked.
The woman lies on her belly.
The man is upright on his knees.
The bed, the man, and the woman are moving.
They are jumping so synchronously.
They are together, they are apart.
They are together, they are apart.
They form a circle,
rolling around as one piece.
The scene is changing.
They are on a stage now.
This is dancing.
Naked.
So free.
They roll together.
They complete each other.
They touch each other.
They hug each other.
So unexpectedly.
Just as part of their dancing.
Nothing is happening by force.
There is no pull or push.
So gentle.
So smooth.
It is just flowing.
They are ending the dance.
The woman in front,
on her left knee, the right leg extended.
She is facing the audience.
He is behind her,
holding one of her hands.
Their right arms extend into the air.
His other hand is between her legs.
The man kisses her neck,
and the woman touches the top of his head.