If I’m being honest
I want to perform for you
To take a bow
To be a dancer
Or to be the dance
It’s like the peasant who offers to the priest
The choiceness of her harvest
Only then, can she eat
And be satisfied
When the offering has been blessed
When your eyes shine for me
The hunger in me is quieted
We will walk the lingering evening
Asking each other
Who was the giver of us