Dancing to the Hours

i touched my feet in pattern

to a sound and steady floor,

creating more of myself

in suspended leaps and

simple, twisty roundings

my loose garment hung

in both places gone

and places coming,

a carousel of myself,

stuck only in likeness

what i caught in the hours

between my recycled breaths

was a way to step close,

both from and toward self,

leaving singularity behind

(altogether)