Summer night, one short of solstice (a poem)
Summer night, one short of solstice
Monuments lit from within, without, above
reflect on the sweat drip on my sternum
while I dance in bare feet on memorial steps
surrounded by accents and tongues
My body is a wet fire on this night
a night to take advantage of plaza music,
a night to be taken advantage of
for though I don't want him to hold my sweaty hand
I still want him to lead the dance.
The obelisk frames the silhouettes
of lovers, visitors, children --
a calm throng chastened by the hot breeze,
cool only to pre-baked skin
The city relaxes into native southern languor
but not me
frustrated
I can't capture the lovers' silhouettes
solitary against the limestone
universal in their pose
Tonight I dance with Lincoln
sprawl at the base of the obelisk
eavesdrop on languages I have yet to learn
all to feel significant
and noticed
and wanted
yet I remain undercover
against my will.
Monuments lit from within, without, above
reflect on the sweat drip on my sternum
while I dance in bare feet on memorial steps
surrounded by accents and tongues
My body is a wet fire on this night
a night to take advantage of plaza music,
a night to be taken advantage of
for though I don't want him to hold my sweaty hand
I still want him to lead the dance.
The obelisk frames the silhouettes
of lovers, visitors, children --
a calm throng chastened by the hot breeze,
cool only to pre-baked skin
The city relaxes into native southern languor
but not me
frustrated
I can't capture the lovers' silhouettes
solitary against the limestone
universal in their pose
Tonight I dance with Lincoln
sprawl at the base of the obelisk
eavesdrop on languages I have yet to learn
all to feel significant
and noticed
and wanted
yet I remain undercover
against my will.