Michael Knows
by Aisha Sharif
that an 8-count doesn’t count;
music is a feeling. He knows
when Jackie Wilson slid
across the Apollo in ’69, dance
became a song of the body.
Michael’s been trying to sing
out his body ever since.
Michael knows childhood
is tender as a sore.
But he doesn’t know why
color matters
in the public’s eye.
When he spins, he knows
no one can color him.
He turns and beats
back, raises a fist
to those who would make music
a business of appearances.
