The morning house was still.
I gloomed in my writing.
at noon I swept the floor
after lunch I read for hours
with a cat on my lap
her green eyes caught the light
that squeezed through the curtains
That evening you came in and
stomped to shake off the dirt
from the road and kissed me
Then you climbed to your cave
The house sighed, re-settled
But sparks arced in corners,
Delicious tension hung
in the air around us:
Tonight was the night that
the Dancing Giant came.
We pulled back furniture
and put on dancing shoes
and nervous, stood about
wond'ring what we would do
A large man lumbered up
to our door and nodded
The Dancing Giant came
Was awkward at the first.
Being in each others' arms
was much too close for us--
You moved the one way out
I moved the other way in--
You dragged me across the floor
And I tripped to keep up
The Dancing Giant came
He set our posture straight
He showed you how to lead
and me how to follow
we moved and, toe to toe,
in soft steps, our bodies
floated free to rhythms--
east coast swing and the waltz.
We agreed what measure
and you twirled me around
my skirts flowed out as I
left you for a measure
and came back to your arms
You smiled wide; I grinned back
and we stepped, twirled together--
it's our one fancy move--
then we lost our footing
but without help regained
the shared beat. Energy
From our feet flowed out and
Through the room, and then came
Thundering back in waves
The lead switched to me and
I twirled with an extra spin
You laughed and took it back
and the Dancing Giant's work was done
He bounded out the door
And we danced and we danced
while the cat sat on the couch
eyes glinting gold in the
light of lamps; our bodies
and our minds shared a space
usually reserved for
one
--Ellen A. Wilkin