Dancing with Resistance
is a slow waltz with a great gorilla. Hot, scratchy.
A sweaty, fumbling dance that tastes like copper
pennies. That exhales a bitter breath.
I cannot see.
His shoulders fill the world, and I cannot see.
Those long arms hold me firmly to a chest
as unyielding as my grandmother’s–
a great acreage of fur that blinds me.
He dances me backward, quick-quick
sl-o-w, a ship’s prow parting the swirling sea
and we sail off the dance floor, sail out
of the room, lumber into shadows, into a
jasmine-scented garden, loud with crickets
and the soft croaking
of frogs. He pushes me down with his great
hairy chest onto a wooden bench. His massive head
trembles-he looks as though he might weep.
A river of stars spills across the sky.
He wraps a violet shawl around my bare shoulders.
Pats my back, grunts, sniffs the air for danger.
Throws back his head and howls
howls his animal grief.
……………………………………………………
(As always, Sunday is Share-a-Poem Day on my Blog. Share your poems in Comments. Let your wild and fearless heart speak its eloquent truth. Let’s celebrate poetry together.)