PoetryRepairShop
Contemporary International Poetry

issue 9904:07

Caroline Ennis

He is clutching the small of her back, 
            fingers so gently brushing the delicate line he finds there.
Together, they are rocking...
            gliding upon the notes as if they were secret currents.
She glances up, brown eyes laughing into his own-
            her arms are beneath his
so that they embrace- but her elbows are reaching up,
her white hands clasping his shoulders.
            Jazz sparks the air,
It pricks his skin and moves him closer. 

--Is it hot in here? his eyes question her gently. Silently. 
They are like mocha sparrows nestling beneath his knitted brow.
She recalls how the snow had caught in his lashes
            as they entered the club,
evanescent pinpricks of silver catching in the dark fringe.
            --No, its just us, her eyes smile back. They are mahogany pools. 
            --I want to kiss you, moans the trumpet. 
            Lovers agree.
The saxophone cradles them upon its golden tones--
Though the room is crowded, 
they are completely alone.
            Her hair puddles between them 
as she lays her head upon his shoulder. It smells of lilacs. 
Subtly, the heady music dims. Begins to thrum a faster beat. 
They do not notice.

(©1999 all rights retained by author)
PoetryRepairShop - Contemporary International Poetry ©1999,1998 (9904:07)