Dancing Feels Like by Bri Wilson

Your brain surrenders to listening

Like it could become an ear glued to the wall

of a house populated by whispered secrets

Your skin surrenders to sensing

as if every epidermic molecule could become

a field of solar panels swallowing light and impulse


Someone turned the volume up

on your capability to feel

— this is what it means to be alive —

experiencing every second through the data

recorded in your muscles by the act

of being alive and human


Like hips pressed against the helm of a ship

Like plummeting into a summer-drunk bay

Like trudging up a vertical winter hill

Like love’s soft, quiet touch under the blanket of night

Like falling asleep in a steady car on endless desert roads

Like watching leaf-filtered sun fall on your shoulders