Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Downstairs, late at night

by Kat Comer

Downstairs, late at night
in a dark, closed room
the rite begins
four women, tensed in expectation sit
in a half moon
on the tiny lit tablada.
In slow motion
the spirit of Andalusia rises
to the cry of Flamenco
as one by one the dancers advance
feet placed in decision
arms raised, fingers splayed
a chorus of wings
doves' songs ascending
a stepping backwards into silence
older than speech
hips circling
cadence of seduction, retreat
          into origin
Sudden explosion, stampede
clapping hands and heels
predatory advance
each movement, a staccato precision
flings mockery at the face of "el hombre"
invites, dares him to ecstasy, release, madness
articulates Spain's passionate soul
splits open the heart
shattering words and their deceptions