Muffin Uptown turns 21 today. In honor of this momentous occasion, I'm unearthing this 19-year-old chestnut. Happy day, MU.
I’m dancing with my two year old, her wet
hair tangled, hanging down, her skin as clean
as newfound hope. All arms and legs and turned-
in knees, beneath the stairs, behind the bed,
along the tops and backs of chairs. She does
the Hannah Dance, again, like every night
at eight-fifteen. She’s been around and in
between, both up and down, cavorting with
a bounding bop and bobble, giggling, wiggling.
She does the dance without her clothes; without
their weight, she flies like Pan above the world.
An elfin light in cotton panties, free.
Forgotten are momentous deeds she’s done
that day; her cares (at last) now cast upon
the bathroom floor where there they’ll lay until
they’re washed and dried and ironed and ready for