He eyes the tall, slender, black dancer
in the skin-tight iridescent tights,

arched backward on the mantle, right leg
lifted behind her, left foot planted firmly

for balance, head flung back, nose pointed
skyward, hands turned upward in supplicat-

ion, long, black braids and locks wrapped
in colorful ribbons hanging loosely.

Her hair begins to move. Is she dancing
an oblation before God or perhaps just

a jazzy move for him who sits below watch-
ing her performance on stage? He hears a

hum. It’s only the air conditioner. A
guy can dream, can’t he?