photo: ralph murre
FOR DANCING
by Bruce
Taylor
Trembling
in sympathy
unstroked
by the bow
not the
string played but
the string
next to it
not music
but what
in music
makes us
wish we
were dancing
in the
present arms
of not
forgotten lovers
whose sweep
and purl
as midnight
disappears
whose glide
like that
lightly out
of control
breathlessly
unaware of
ability and
will
whose reach
of flesh
under
fabric whose wanton
body of a
beautiful youth
ever eager
in our arms.
~ first appeared in The Wisconsin Academy Review
