American Rhapsody

Excerpt

Marathon Dancing

Ladies and gentlemen, how long can they last?

– master of ceremonies

We sleep on each others’ shoulders.
Feet and legs swollen,
shoes worn, we rest until
the whistle starts, marathon not over

yet. For 25 cents they watch
and we have our chance
to win hundreds of dollars.
To keep up the dance,

we shuffle, knit or I sometimes
write letters on a folding desk
around my neck. As long as
my feet don’t rest

but move up and down.
We gather nickels and dimes
from the hardwood floor, silver showers
that won’t make the time

go any faster. I can’t slap my partner awake.
What money we’d make
if we’d waltz or foxtrot! What it takes
to still hunger’s ache.

Le Jazz Hot
– for Josephine Baker

In Revue Nègre,
face painted, banana skirt
circling her swinging hips,
behind jiggling on cue.

On screen, bare breasts
covered with coral necklaces,
feathered hair, a bright parrot,
swinging on a vine.

In cafés, eyes rolling,
flashing teeth, mock smile,
dancing to le jazz hot
with white men.

Far from rioters
who lynched, stoned,
scorched East St. Louis,
sky black with ash,

where she hid in a basement.
Scared girl.
Mad to be herself.
One who got away.