After Show Aches

The cold chokes my throat igniting immunity with energy warmer than an oven of convection.

Vibrations still rattle rocked ribs, repeating rhythms, pulsing through fingertips; I am alert with agreeable adrenaline observations.

Playing stuck songs backwards and forwards, mandala hemispheres chatter with excited interpretations.

Laying my head upon thumping shoulders I shimmy in chilly acceleration.

Driving back to padded cage with pulsing hips still crying out for ambulation,

I mentally marvel at composition that continues to expose a mass to an accumulation of acculturation.

Still skipping I step into a wet jungle heat, rinsing sweat and feeling the saturation

of sweet streaming rivulets; oxygenation creating the perfect negative ionic sedation.

Stretching, sleepy articulations crack, pop, and snapple, as muscles create compositions out of yogi positions;

releasing restricted tensions, limbs curve in evolutionary arches of emancipating elevation.

Excited for ethereal fantasies, equilibrium turns exhausted orientation into disorganization.

Restful slumber permits the reclamation of youthful rejuvenation,

as peaceful dreams dance wildly to harmonious beats of ecstatic revelation.

© Sarah Bordeau-Rigertink, 2013

Dancing Moghul women. From Auguste Racinet's Le Costume Historique, originally published in France between 1876 and 1888.
from Wikimedia Images; in the public domain