Saturday, October 04, 2008


You say my dancing feeds you,
as your powdered palm pats,
and fingertips tap,
the skin of the drum.
And I watch half crazed
as you command passion
with percussive perfection
that wets my lips
and drives my hips
to destinations once unknown.
And you watch half dazed
as I twirl to your tabla,
drunk on sound,
inhibitions unwound,
shaken and awakened
to a realization profound,
until I approach knowing
you too can see
how deliciously dangerous
this symbiotic relationship
has the potential
to be.

1 comment:

Atlanta Carter said...

I like how this dances in and out of rhyme. It's inherently musical, and one of your best, I think.