Belly Dance

Russian rhythms warm the crowd up in the gloaming. Hairs create golden cascades on the street. Even a moralist doesn’t go home, enticed by the beauties in silk. Suppressed desires leak through the moral vents. Like blue snakes, the dancers sway on the Keralite culture that always tends to wrap feminine body in saris and churidars. The nude flesh fragments in exotic white enthrall the spectators. What is artistic there turns erotic here. First published in The Literary Hatchet.