Friday, May 4, 2012

Dancing With Menchita

Varnished pine floor pitted and gouged.
Heel lifts, flaunting abrasions, white
scratches on light brown.  Almost new.
Twist the ankle, turn.  Broad square
hand clasps a blue sequined back.
They are comically mismatched, her head
level with his chest.  A one man band:
tune for a tango.  Furrowed brow --
no self-conscious stage smile --
absent audience, concentration plays
across his face.  His gaze fixates on
his black patent toes; hers are clad
in midnight satin.  The pair grow
across the room, tree trunk and orchid.  Zoom
around on a lazy susan.  Together they
suggest something edible -- ruffled confection of sweat
and steps taught with kindness, patience and grace.

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