In a slip of shadow under the table
Ella and I were squeezed together
and that was good, tight was good,
because pieces of me were fluttering away with the noise.
We shared sugar hearts and chocolate strawberries
and let the legs of the table dig into us.
I kept trying to scrape
the smell of scented sanitizer
off on my pants leg;
she kept twirling her ring;
the dance floor kept bouncing, bouncing,
staticy songs creaking, floating in the sea of stomps
until I couldn’t hear my own six-year-old laugh
at the nonsense and absolute sense
of candy under the table.
(This is for Joseph Harker’s twenty-fifth Renovations prompt. http://namingconstellations.wordpress.com/2013/11/25/renovation-twenty-five-prospect-park/)