Thursday, January 17, 2013

Cutting A Rug

Dance Class

Bear down! I urge, bear down! Under my breath
beneath leaden skies of gross motor farce
lumbering bear on a chain, tasseled fez
a thimbled crown, symbol of gravity’s  
defiance, straining in my winter coat
to strike a pose on an upturned parfait
cup, nose thrust into the prevailing breeze
in a fruitless search for the beat, lurching
across vast parquet plains toward our big dance
number, your beauty unbearable, my
lost, aching heart shifting from paw to paw
in slow waltz time.   I recall our last dance
when you were nine or ten, Mahlathini
and the Mahotella Queens at the Ark
the floor in front of the stage packed, whirling
with your head thrown back, outstretched arms, eyes closed
a wedding in your future, a smitten
bear committing the night to memory.

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