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.