Dancing Lessons

Because my body does not know the steps,
I allow you to show me. I love watching you

swing, full skirt whirling, flower behind your ear.
In the Century Ballroom you lead me slowly,

extending your soft hand, legs curved and sure
in your favorite sepia heels. And that dress

of emerald and ivory! Hem dusting your knees,
halter draping your neck. Kissing the world

beneath. Later I will braid your ribs into mine,
your sweet bone-slopes loosening their clutch

on the muscles of your chest, gifting you space
to breathe each time we meet. In the morning

your hair iron will smolder like a talisman
from the future, a story still unspooling. And

there will be coffee, with pale almond milk
the cream of your skin — but tonight we have

this polished wood floor, your fingers twirling
me into rebirth, your curled head warming

my collarbone. First is that elegant moment
when you beckon, and I follow.

May 2017