She coaxed him into lessons <br />With a tug on his sleeve <br />And a kiss that tasted of <br />Dark bitter chocolate— <br /> <br />The dance, he learned, <br />Begins at salida: <br />Exit is entrance, <br />Departure beginning. <br /> <br />Right foot inside, <br />Right foot outside. <br />Golpe, cruzada. <br />Caricia, entrada. <br /> <br />Slow, slow, <br />Quick quick, slow. <br />Molinete, zarandeo. <br />Intrusione, boleo. <br /> <br />Name these things <br />Then forget their names: <br />Passion is movement, <br />And movement needs no words. <br />For over time the rhythm changes <br />Until at last the dance begins. <br /> <br />Tonight, for him, <br />High-waisted trousers, <br />Halogen white tuxedo shirt. <br />For her a wisp, a whirl, <br />And a skirt slit up to here. <br /> <br />Shoulders so, <br />Eyes locked, <br />Faces cocked. <br />They walk— <br />A tandem cat— <br />He, deciding; <br />She, yielding <br />To a place <br />In his arms <br />That she controls. <br /> <br />They pause, <br />She smiles, <br />And caresses him <br />With her thigh. <br /> <br />They finish with rapid <br />High-stepping sacadas, <br />Intertwining feet and legs: <br />His fearless steps, <br />Her careless stilettos. <br /> <br />The music stops, <br />But not the rhythm of her breath, <br />Or the resonance of her eyes. <br />He studies her face, <br />Framed in jagged auburn; <br />Watches her hand move <br />To touch his ear, <br />And he whispers: <br /> <br />I saw you with him.<br /><br />Gary Witt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/exhibition-dancing-ii-the-tango/
