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Click herenot only party dancers
we leaned against the fence
standing still tanguillo
eyes close and open
hands clutch, relax
knees raised we dip
hear cante jondo
our shoes fall
to damp brick pavement
black rain pours from
spout, a racket into
wooden barrel
leaking seams
rusting stays
slow descent
picket slat riding
down onto your wet hair
hands cupping ears
eyes up, mascara streams
I want you fully soaked
This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 38,500 poems.
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