Poetry: My mother was a dancer

My mother was a dancer,

part-time intensity between kids

the stop-start hurried shuffle

of once motionless feet

my mother was a dancer

when she could make time

in the weatherboarded up, snow-covered 50s

on the up and up of the cranky upside down business cycle

my mother danced

not to trip, stumble, fall without thinking

what's the risk?

the double quick flicker of feet

the sudden stammer of moving shoes

My mother was a dancer

poetry