Holding on (to a Dream)

Fingers plucking
woven strings
we dance
alone.

Fingers tapping
lacquered wood
we tap
along.

Fingers stroking
summer hair
we stare
about.

Fingers tracing
winter dreams
we smile
aloud.

Fingers reaching
out to touch
we pause
aloof.

Fingers gripping
shaky palms
we turn
around.

Twenty dancing
strings plucking
winter dreams
across lines
traced in summer

sand–we close our
eyes, turn our backs–
as tensions of opposites
abound.

Mamba Dreams and Salsa Hubris

smiles at midnight—hidden creases
in a ballroom dress. click tap click tapping
of heels; tapping of kegs; tapping of veins.

grins at midnight—wobbly crystal glasses
drunk on gypsy fiddle. pursed lips, preying
eyes, restrained delight flickering beneath Egyptian mascara.

laughter at midnight–three-four feet forays
to the pull of cricket violins. smoky frog
concertos invoked in raspy twilight whispers.

tired band at midnight—eighteen bleeding feet
raw on wine. mahogany moon stoic wrest,
above two heads dipping quietly into chests.

the night is endless sweat between brow, curled
lips and trembling chins. across laminate floors
two knees shake tepid in a wind of salsa hubris.

smiling laughter grins at midnight—two hands
betrothed to mamba hips lead father’s daughter
away into the dewy mystery of dawn–

while all the wonder lost souls meander home.