The pack of wild men dances with arms up,
chests out, teeth flashed. You there in the center,
yes you. That white T-shirt and the view from
upstairs—howl, as they say.
Around we go, the hip hop beats on, we beat
on, feet stuck, slipping, moving, hips stuck,
I declare you, man, the owner of moves: first,
last, your lips on my neck, my curves and yours,
words just words, my lips, yes, mine.
I declare myself woman—the resistance until
what will be. You loved someone else before.
Remember? Let’s not be alone, man, man. Say
it with me.