People on every inch of the wooden floor,
in the same spot for only a millisecond.
Electrons in an orbital, cannot be pinpointed.
Quivering, giggling, oppositely spinning,
full of energy, kinetically speaking to each other.
Bonds change, pairs switch, no pair-bonding except
covalent codependents with phalanges entwined.
Every song a pattern, an interchanging puzzle,
pieces unaware of unpredictable future.
Evolving with it, low resistance lets
hands slip, skirts could rip, legs keep moving
blisters burst and calf muscles pull
with a twist, a kick, a trusting fall.
Teaching in the moment as beating intensifies
adrenaline, oxytocin permeating into room
by respiration; copious chemical condensation.
Music crescendos as the mercury rises
urged by two dozen moving metabolisms
catalyzing interactions, creating dancers.
Oh I miss swing dancing in Poughkeepsie. And I’m not sure about the title. I revised it from the original, less poem-like piece I wrote in November of 2008 in my Zero Journal for Grammar, Style ,and Editing
This work by Sarah Holmes is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License