A Witness in the Round Tells Us What He Saw
Let me set the scene:
A purple dusk
hazy with lust
sweaty bodies
anxious for touch
music making moments
feel like lifetimes
A piece of starlight
takes the centre of the round
her body bathed in rhythm
pulling the moon toward her
in the jealous sky
His feet rushed toward her
like water thirsting for the shore
the crowd parted when his hand
landed on the planet of her
writhing hip – we were mesmerized
They danced the dance of
jilted lovers of romeos & juliets
of tango urgency & waltz’ slow smoulder
it was no lie their language became lava
as Time burned caution in a rage of desire
I saw them leave
her fingers reaching for
the nearest shadows
his eyes to the dusty floor
as she pulled him to her
silky destiny
The round sighed with salty
relief & the moon looked away
embarrassed
It was too late
as three am lifted
her flared skirt to the
curious wind
the weight of the
lovers’ breaths tangled
in the shivering leaves
holding vigil at the tips
of peeping branches
What I know is what I saw
two beings tethered & torched
by the rapture of song
an undeniable connection
chemical electric soul-savage
beyond the body but the
body the only entrance
to that kind of love
Friends, I’ve always been fascinated with Michael Jackson’s song Billie Jean. I heard it on the radio this morning as I was driving us to work and school. I remembered my idea to write about the song…feeling compelled for some inexplicable reason to write about what happened ‘in the round’. This is the poem that tells a version of that fictional night…
May we always consider the lives of the characters in the music we love. They are incredible prompts for writing.
In other news, I’ve handed in our tax info with massive relief. Preparing paperwork for taxes completely rearranges my energy and brain electricity into a gnarly monster. I’m glad that is over. Also, if anyone was feeling completely lost and bonkers yesterday…so was I.
I’ve got a very exciting book treat coming very soon….
And now…I’m off to the world of magic to work on my novel.
Happy writing!
Yay! For taxes being DONE!! That is a job so blah!
On the other hand this is one sizzlin’ poem Vanessa!!! Very luscious. But the kid is not his son, lol
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