Tonight's Poet Corner: Endless Club Night
Endless Club Night
by Belinda Roddie
The synthesizers make it clear,
and so do the guitar chords: She wants
to dance, and so I am resigned
to follow her choreography for the night.
How many times has she heard this song?
Or was she sneaky and wrote it herself,
like a musical ninja throwing notes
like morning stars at the microphones
wired up in a recording studio far away?
I've never known her as a compose,
yet she remains, as always, composed:
Ready to sway, ready to slide, ready to find
equilibrium between each toe of each foot,
the heels of her shoes sliding toward the void.
And I am there with her, among the synthesizers
and the guitar chords - and somewhere, a drum
beats a rhythm that doesn't match my own. And
for the first time since I met her, I am afraid.
by Belinda Roddie
The synthesizers make it clear,
and so do the guitar chords: She wants
to dance, and so I am resigned
to follow her choreography for the night.
How many times has she heard this song?
Or was she sneaky and wrote it herself,
like a musical ninja throwing notes
like morning stars at the microphones
wired up in a recording studio far away?
I've never known her as a compose,
yet she remains, as always, composed:
Ready to sway, ready to slide, ready to find
equilibrium between each toe of each foot,
the heels of her shoes sliding toward the void.
And I am there with her, among the synthesizers
and the guitar chords - and somewhere, a drum
beats a rhythm that doesn't match my own. And
for the first time since I met her, I am afraid.
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