John Garth Raubenheimer (21/12/1947 / Johannesburg)
Barefoot In A Red Dress
Barefoot in a red dress, toes curled in sand
scuffed by our dancing, you threw back your head -
a toss of your blonde mane that primed the band
and sang with savage flair to wake the dead.
How long had I known you? Just for an hour.
As you tamed wild drums what happened to me?
Dazed, entranced I stood, shaken by your power,
touched to my quick by your dark turn of key.
Afterwards we talked, as the fire sank low,
watched our friends strolling down the starry beach
curving away in a glimmering bow,
the teased-for moment held just out of reach.
Till you shrugged off the dress, you ran with me
naked into the phosphorescent sea.
Comments about this poem (Barefoot In A Red Dress by John Garth Raubenheimer )
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