Right leg over left In a black folding chair She sits tapping time with the toe of a laced black boot Her eyes ignite and blaze Like saphires in the sun Black curls bounce Forearms flex and tendons roll Sturdy fingers fly till the fiddle wails like a child The maple bow saws with a horse's tail and rumbles a gypsy dance in choppy rages For a moment The ghost of a woman gone two hundred years Swivels with smooth hips And dancing bracelets Slick heels and slicker hands And fills our kitchen With spice and hot blood Until Mamooshka puts her heart back in the case And snaps the silver clasps by Nora Steiger, 02/2005 |