By: Hannah Rozenblat
The reflecting shimmery lights in the sea are people,
orange and iridescent white
They are dancing, it seems to me
Constantly in motion, limbs a blur
So close they sometimes seem one, drawing apart and merging
Or maybe they are fighting, fist pulled back and then released
Contorting, hurt, one’s violence making contact with the other’s flesh.
Sometimes the distinction between a dance and a fight is so blurry
You don’t know what’s going on until it’s all over
And those lights go out, defeated.