The Dance

a poem by Elaine E. Howie

The scarfs fly as I roll my body here and there
The hair gets in my face under my breath I swear
They never notice I am just the dancer
I am the sure-footed prancer
So I continue to do the dance

I feel the sweat as I rush across the stage
The dance and I have a battle to wage
I look out into the crowd
They are transformed I am going wild
I do a few jumps and splits
I am a dancer and must keep my wits

I tumble across the floor
And gyrated my body to a beat never known before
I am the dancer you see
I am out side of me
Doing the dance
That will give me one more chance
To hold the audience in my hand
To elicit some false demand

I hop up on the pole
As the music gropes for my soul
But I dance back and forth
Because they call out for more

The saxophone and me are one
I wrap my body around its rhythm
And it folds me into its joy
Stretching me a little to far
I will wake only when the music stops
I will not allow my body to stop its rock

Seldom my dance is free
But love the dance is all over me
As the dance continues it raises questions of long ago
It permits me to release all that is not so.
I bow and thank the audience hearing their plea
Yes, the dance was definitely meant to be
I know that they will bring me back again
With happiness I give them this dance my friend

The End