Tango
Who taught you the art of the dance
Did you learn from your mother or a book
Or did you study under the hand of a master
An aging tango instructor who paced you
To the rhythm of the late afternoon heat
The small of your back held in erect posture
With a firm hand and guiding stare
Every aloof gesture and cool hooded glance
Belied and countered by the sway and precision
Of old world passion choreographed in the steps
But executed in the press of hips and soul
Lean in and breathe the scent of linen and soap
The linger of sherry and the musk of life
But pretend not to notice or even be moved
By the tilt of a head, the bend of an elbow
The curve of a palm or the arch of a foot
While you long to press the fabric hem to your lips
Close your eyes and swell to the music
Follow the sweat trickle between your breasts
Suspend thought for the lead that grips
As the most elegant of teachers moves you
Through the silent seduction, the art of the dance.
ANONYMOUS
