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
the last pavilion 