She twirls alone on the floor
as ambient songs fling with the wisp
of mambo notes…
this older lady with sequins on her hair—
luminescent arms quite fluid-- ruffles around
like a moth in a trance; her glow
dark and brewed by some potion: flamed toes
pivoting on embers of heat and glazed stones.
There I am, inhabiting her freestyle grooves
as my body moves toward her like burnt sting.
And we pulsate without a compass,
reeling our strides higher than anklets
of evening… and we dance, we dance
while our bones make love with the moon,
climbing into the pole of beats
until glitters in our eyes meet
with kohl of dusk’s thrist hiding nothing.
I twist evermore past a cotillion of meteors
Spreading plumes across unknown rhythm;
A mad swivel with myself, thrilling my essence
In a hanging motion of a dip…I find myself alone
on the floor; my hem gathering night’s stardust.
And the lady gazes at me from afar, she smiles,
Dancing With Contest
Sponsor: Giorgo V.
by nette onclaud