Salsa

Couples dance salsa in shorts and tee shirts
Despite the clouded cold. Snared in warm clothes 
And shy, I coyly decline, envy them
Their confidence, grace, willingness, laughter,
Bold closeness. Why must I choose this place in 
The musical circle–always outside
Rhythms and feelings, stiff with lonesome thought?

I can’t deny that this solitude hurts;
Must this be what I pay for what I chose?    
But sometime later, if self-doubt grows dim, 
And I fear neither here nor hereafter,
Then there is fey literary grace in
The quick waltz my words take out on the tide  
To catch that blessèd barque the dancers caught.

So if I don't see some Contessa flirts 
With me, perhaps I scent a dead-white rose
Love grows on elegant bones, sheathed in trim, 
Muscled skin. With well-worn tools I’ll craft her
A few redolent lines. May they trace in
Water and sand her fleeting poise and pride,
Which is all my odd Muse has ever sought.

© Larry Haworth 2013