poem: four girls dancing

four girls dancing

like sun-drenched cats

brown hands water between

waving afternoon sun

men singing to thrumming spices

in the air and hair swished

carelessly back to black liquid

roses limp from young ready passion

and even slower winding

brown fingers in the heady shimmering

noon-hour

curling around us like a tightly rolled r

the rising in your blood matched to their

rising solid graceful bodies

dancing

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