Sweet is coming.

Bitter, too.


Adamant flowers are coming.

Hands pushing on doors are coming.


Air I breathe are coming.


Mud-soaked feet are coming

and with them

ginger, wheat and fly.




This blooming of determination leaning in without force but with certainty.


Four women in a line, smelling ginger; swaying wheat and breath like air and mud. Each of their faces appear and disappear.


Two women together dance this way waiting and not waiting. Rain is coming. Strong fists, too. Each with open hands behind her back arms stretched and pushed back with open palms.  See her strong back and strong arms?  She is kneeling arms and open hands stretched back.



from A Lily Lilies

Poems by Josey Foo, Notes on Dance by Leah Stein