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      October 11, 2021About Work the Dance FloorBen Wenzl

      after the song of the same name by Georgia

      I am seized by synths. My face is a myth of mist
      and makeup. It’s caked on. Let them eat it.
       
      I’m straight drowning in straight people at the gay club.
       
      I came out, so they could come see The Attraction
      of same sex. Men dance like they’re in straitjackets.
       
      The only thing dancing is their eyes, which feast on
      a sweetness they both fear and marvel at. I hold another
      man’s hand, and men’s eyes manhandle me.
       
      When I was a green queer at the gay club, a cackle
      of bridesmaids asked me to take their group picture.
      I still couldn’t marry the man I loved. C’est la vie.
       
      I channel my inner Chanel. Robyn’s “Missing U”
      comes on, and she does her best to exorcise me of my ex.
      I strut so well it’s disgusting. I am both spectacle and speck.
       
      Through my limp, limpid, lisping wrists dances good blood
      that I cannot donate to save another person’s life.
      I guess I’ll have to save my own, here, under the lights.
       
      The dancefloor is a mouth and my entire body is one
      of many flaming tongues. Only the glistening are listening.
       
      When I leave, the club is burning. In the lot, I don’t look
      back.
       
      I lick my lips and taste the salt.

      from #72 – Summer 2021

      Ben Wenzl

      “Originally, I planned on going to school to major in piano performance. I very quickly realized that I didn’t have the makings of a concert pianist. I turned to writing and found that performing my own writing, my own truth, gave me a bigger rush than any good recital ever did. Music will always be my biggest influence, though. I am a true lover of sounds (both on and off the page), so I always try to infuse some musicality into whatever I’m writing. I don’t want all those years of lessons to be for nothing.”