thoughts become beliefs become
Ellen Crofton
Tripping in time to that upbeat disapproval
checking to see if you saw
making sure the crescendo falls when
something rises.
Vandalise the curves, the blemishes
the thinking,
unsure what that body means, feels –
normalising that voice
which becomes the chorus
with a Mariah Carey finale.
You find yourself swaying –
familiar with the notes, the rises;
not long after you find yourself dancing.
Join in
you know the lines
A ritual that still hums when not practiced
danced to when not preached
until thoughts and beliefs are alike
like friends mock-dancing in a club.
Then you find the girl called Her
staring back through glass
not sure why she can’t look
below the neck.
She sways again:
you know the lines
She sways again,
you know th-
with eyes closed this time.
Opens.
For a brief second
she paints over the graffiti
on the curves, the blemishes,
the thinking
until next time.
But it’s alright.
