Prison Dance With Gypsies
PRISON DANCE WITH GYPSIES
the guards’ rifles stab the thick gray air –
under their eyes shivers of rain
wash our faces – beat our bodies
with needles of water
hollow metal buckets – instant drums
an echoless mantra slowed by fading hope
raise our hands with rhetorical questions
praise the beans in our thinning stomachs
the buckets’ full sound
springs us onto our feet –
we throw our clothes in mud
breasts jump startled
nipples harden in the cold
in our patch of freedom
we jump – stomp the mud
model and remodel its silky softness
mud embraces
caresses our nakedness
with open mouth kisses our thighs –
our toes wedge it
in lightning we are silver
like slippery fishes
swim in our guards’ minds
we burn their eyes
insult them with gleaming flesh
we crush them
with the air that touches our hips
we cast our nets
with fingers of rain
and catch our guards –
their veins are broken
with tired impotence
when with wondrous hands
we map a woman’s topography
the guards with their rifles
with slightly opened rodent mouths
are smothered in our movement –
we foam their fantasies
we blow the swampy water
long hair wet
slither in the air
like whips
crack the guards’ faces
splash them with mud
in pagan dance
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