I used to dance for glee and exercise
at parties, with a lover, or alone.
I’d start to move, seduced to close my eyes
to better hear and feel the vivid thrum
of bass guitar. It wasn’t saxophone
that moved me, and it seldom was a drum.
This quarantine is comeback time for me.
Somewhere along my line I stopped my dance
but now, at home, alone, taps memory,
and twice a day or week I track again
the heartbeat in the music that enchants
my hips to move (and also prompts this pen).
I used to dance for glee and exercise;
this quarantine is comeback time for me.