When She Dances (Poetry)
29th January 2012
WHEN SHE DANCES
her body does more than match
the stencilled shape of rhythms —
every atom of her hangs —
curled round the sound as though
each note has hooks
that catch upon her spine
and tug — stretch the threadling
nerves drawn swift
as she becomes the current — flowing —
describing the blue jazz ache
of every sorrow — hope — dream-dashed
and breathless. Her face
a mirror to the mood — a mask
the drug of music paints upon her —
she swims through air
her figure mapping out thin
parabolas that snag on sudden
discords — change the pace —
she measures every half-beat
her body melts with life’s disharmonies
transmutes the whole world’s pain
like she’s committed some rare act
of sorcery.
her body does more than match
the stencilled shape of rhythms —
every atom of her hangs —
curled round the sound as though
each note has hooks
that catch upon her spine
and tug — stretch the threadling
nerves drawn swift
as she becomes the current — flowing —
describing the blue jazz ache
of every sorrow — hope — dream-dashed
and breathless. Her face
a mirror to the mood — a mask
the drug of music paints upon her —
she swims through air
her figure mapping out thin
parabolas that snag on sudden
discords — change the pace —
she measures every half-beat
her body melts with life’s disharmonies
transmutes the whole world’s pain
like she’s committed some rare act
of sorcery.