We danced our first steps to Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings
In the kitchen where after ten shots of Makers Mark,

You said I was red like our common water, a sunset
By another name. I used to tremble at such warmth,

The way we moved like music escaping from the day,
The way this cooling mass heaped on your shoulder. Still,

Who would have known the lightness of your arms wrapped
Neatly around my neck, or the way our feet stamped

Our apartment into the earth below. Who would have known
Just miles away our dance was made like waves raking

New shores from old islands. That day, I wondered
How many bodies like mine fell silent as rubble settling

In the wake of a glib voice guiding that cold hand north
Towards heaven, stopping only to release such despoiled passions

Into a body of resurrection like all I have in my hands,
Like all we consume in a poem after reading it for the first time.

Robert Davis is a freelance journalist, musician, and creative writer who currently lives in Aurora, Colorado. His music has been included in Eclectic Magazine (as a member of rock-band Plaid Rabbit) and his creative works have been featured in a wide range of publications from newspapers and magazines to literary journals. This is his first published poem.

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