After raiding your wardrobe
I feel so much more myself.

I feel so much more myself
that I do a little dance

in red shoes, on tiny feet.
I clatter like a well-shod pony

down a cobbled street.
My dance is not for you

to judge, or even
see: I do my dance invisibly.

You will know it only by
the swinging hanger

where your riding jacket
used to be.