(Obviously not a new poem. haha)
Tango
Thin women dance.
Arms circle them twice;
hipbones collide.
Spines like whips,
they dip to the floor,
stiletto shoes
stabbing the stares
of perspiring men.
We are too soft, you and I.
Adhesive in wide swaths,
attached skin to skin,
pulp to pulp, hands sliding
shoulder to neck, languorous.
Lips parting, legs parting,
we make lousy dancers.
I feel like I've read this one - have I? Or have I just read so much over the past days it only feels familiar?
ReplyDeleteIt's possible I wrote it for a BBS challenge.
DeletePerfect.
ReplyDeleteSwoon.
ReplyDeleteHow long did it take you to write this? That's one of my problems with this month. Not that I will ever be a poet, but I'd think a good poem would take more than a few stolen minutes to write.
ReplyDeletestolen meaning stolen from work, cooking, cleaning, walking, gardening -- things I should be doing instead of writing poems
DeleteIt's a valid concern. I used to write a first draft fairly quickly and then let it sit while I picked away at it over many days. All the poems went through a number of revisions. I wrote "Tango" years ago, so I don't remember how long it took, but I do remember bringing it to the poetry workshop I belonged to at the time. One of the members wanted me to take out "pulp to pulp," but I was too attached to it. :-)
DeleteOh! That was the poem I refused to read in front of someone. I mentioned the incident earlier in this blog: Click Here