Poem: Michael Dreams of Dancing with Connie

Michael Dreams of Dancing with Connie

(falling asleep with the pen in his hands)

Whirligig, milkshake, pasta rigatoni

the clasp of hands in mid-flight

we burn the solar system into

a patch of wood,

Newton’s finest thoughts

Tap the swing and sway,

trace the liturgy of hand and hip,

lasso the tail of a comet’s

ellipse into the meeting of ribs,

tight as paint on glass and

circle and circle and

spin and

The downbeat of a

waltz arrives only once.

Tonight I take you by the

fingernails and

tie you into a puzzlebox:

silver ribbon, sleeve and shoe

smoke and liquor, Scotch tape,

foil paper laced with leather.

And then I

unwrap you

again and

again.

From the collection Fields of Satchmo

Photo by MJV