Denise woke in the January dark.

It was 3am and a new moon.

She put on a dress for the first time.

Soft cotton, made for young skin.

The fuzz tickled her shoulders

The breeze brushed her legs

She leaped and twirled

Dancing into the deep twilight,

Until her hair had turned to white wisps.

 

I didn't wake until the sun rose.

Through my bedroom window I saw

Hundreds of people like Denise

Parading through the streets.

I heard traces of their voices

Long after they had left.

I could feel clap of their steps

In time with the beat of my heart.

 

So on a bright July morning,

Perhaps half after seven,

I tugged my binder over my head

And left my skirt for cargo shorts.

I found I could begin to dance,

One step in front of the other.

 

Denise hadn't seen a parade.

She hadn't needed the sunlight.

She put on her cotton dress and said,

No more secrets, no more deception.

I follow in the steps she left behind.