A Domestic Dance

Their routine begins
like this:

Standing, with precarious
posture. Their hands’ thrust

They struggle, drag
each other around
the room.

She improvises, hits
him with her knee.
They separate.

He grabs a fistful of hair,
forces her to bow, throws
a fist at her back.

She twirls free, leaps
onto him. He throws
her in the air,

doesn’t bother catching her.

She notices me watching,
and insists they’re not fighting

just dancing.