Read quickly, the poem sounds like a set of directions, the kind you might hear in a movement class. The speaker tells us to put our feet on the floor, bend our knees, lift a foot, touch our toes "any old way." The title, "Private Dance Structures 1," suggests that these are steps in a dance meant to be done alone, though that is an inference from the title and the commands themselves.
What stands out is the shift in attention. At first we are told not to think about our feet, then to consider our knees. The tone is relaxed and permissive: place your foot "somewhere," touch your toes in any way you like. There is even room for "bunches of sighs." Nothing here has to be done correctly.
The ending turns inward. We look at ourselves in a long mirror, then focus on a single left eye and slide our gaze down the glass. The mood is quiet, curious, and a little strange, as if the body were being noticed for the first time.