By J. P. Dancing Bear
tonight you’re feeling a little vulturish: in your tuxedo: it’s not a pomegranate on your silver tray: and she’s not Persephone: but you offer it to her anyway: she is weary of the way the paring knife slides out of the wall: or how peeling painting of your ancestors: framed as they are: revert to feathers: the curtains cascade to a pool: ripple and sway: a staircase next to them: that has no beginning: play Miles Davis: cool and sublime: dancing her closer to a painting of steps: spiraling up and away: you ask if it’s okay: to call her by a mythical name: she hunches her shoulders: stares at the currents below: she got that look in her eye: the one that says I could make this work
for Seth Abramson
(Today’s poem originally appeared in The Medulla Review, and appears here today with permission from the poet.)
J. P. Dancing Bear is the author of nine collections of poetry, most recently, Inner Cities of Gulls (2010, Salmon Poetry), winner of a PEN Oakland-Josephine Miles National Literary Award. His forthcoming Family of Marsupial Centaurs will be released by Iris Press, and Fish Singing Foxes will be released by Salmon Poetry. His poems have been published in Mississippi Review, Natural Bridge, Poetry Kanto, Verse Daily and many other publications. He is editor for the American Poetry Journal and Dream Horse Press. Bear also hosts the weekly hour-long poetry show, Out of Our Minds, on the public station KKUP, also available as podcasts.
Editor’s Note: Today’s poem invites us to enter a scene where modernity and mythology dance in the light of cinematic prose. Phrase directs phrase and image forwards image so that we are audience to the intimacy between man and woman, tinted with seduction, danger, and promise.
Want to see more by and about J. P. Dancing Bear?
Buy Inner Cities of Gulls
Buy Conflicted Light
J. P. Dancing Bear’s Official Website (click on “poems” to see more work on line)
The American Poetry Journal
Dream Horse Press