"With this dance your eyes touch." From today's poem "Rumba – spot turns" by Christine Klocek-Lim. If you have ever danced rumba, you know this is so.
Rumba — spot turns
by Christine Klocek-Lim
She says, look at each other.
With this dance your eyes touch.
I am uncertain as the wind.
His face is an ocean, difficult
to fathom. He cradles my scapula
and I finger secrets against his bicep,
muscle through hard depths to bone.
I don’t know how deep
we can go.
He moves us into a basic, an open break,
then pulls me terribly
close—spot turn with my arm
tangled behind my back
then into an open curve
around his body.
He is steady as waves breaking.
My hips fret until he turns contrariwise,
a rip tide. A tsunami.
I cling, helpless as the sand
trying to walk backwards and he pivots,
spins me off.
I am crushed shells.
Bits of glass.
I don’t want to leave when I’ve just learned
to swim. He pulls me back harder
so I disappear,
the ocean too deep for this motion.
I hold my breath while he unbinds me yet again.
The ballroom slick as water.
His face deep as our first night together.
My body soft as the wind.
* * * * *
"Rumba – spot turns" is from Ballroom — a love story (Flutter Press, 2012).
Christine Klocek-Lim won the 2009 Ellen La Forge Memorial Prize in poetry. When she's not reading poetry for Autumn Sky Poetry DAILY, she writes novels (Disintegrate, Who Saw the Deep) and is an acquiring editor for Evernight Teen and Evernight Publishing.