Mum Dance

By Charlotte Cosgrove

She no longer dances in the right way, 
The way the young ones do.
Her hands slice through the air chopping
Invisible carrots. 
Knees, hips, hands, neck 
No more in synchronicity
Just all move at their own pace.

She’s not a good dancer anymore.
Her face is too loose.
Her smile is too unaware
That people are watching. 

Her kids watch her.
They wonder how she can’t care that she’s flailing,
A rat in a trap. 
She doesn’t know what she’s doing, they say to each other.

Right up until now she’s been dancing in the wrong way. 
This is how you dance.
You keep moving. 
Like you’re supposed to. 

Charlotte Cosgrove is a poet and teacher from Liverpool, England. She is published in Trouvaille Review, Dreich, The Literary Yard and a Wingless Dreamer anthology. She has work forthcoming in Confingo, Beyond Words, The Broadkill Review, Words and Whispers, Sledgehammer and New Contexts 2: an anthology. Charlotte was recently shortlisted for the Julian Lennon poetry prize. She is Editor of Rough Diamond Poetry Journal.