Tonight's Poet Corner: See Her Dancing

See Her Dancing
by Belinda Roddie

See the little old lady dripping glitter
on the dance floor and sparkling with beads
and gems from distant galaxies. See her
dip and bend with an agility I haven't had
since I turned twenty-five years old. She is
lightning and thunder simultaneously rumbling
across the landscape, brighter than
the flashing lights from the club ceiling. See
the little old lady stop for breath and hop
onto a stool twice her height and ask for
"the fruitiest fucking drink you can make,
honey pie." And the guy she called honey pie
says it's on the house. See her lips quiver
when they touch the sugar and liquor. Like fuel
in a gas tank, like a spark from a wire, she has
consumed another sample from the fountain of
youth, and finally I force my lumpy, quiet
self to ask her to dance with me. And she does.
And she does it beautifully. And loudly. And
proudly. All with silver in her hair and gold
in her great, big, confident eyes.