Come Dancing Poem by M.L. Emmett

Your popsicle pink ladies
swan-necked and arching back
orgasmic in organza

beehived and lacquered
every hair securely held
against the centrifugal force of motion

your luscious mauve women
vogue elegant, wasp-waisted
sensual sylphs out stretching
reaching out to touch and caress
the tenderness of ballroom air

Led by bryllcreemed sleek men
firm-handed, elongated, dark men
Cuban-heeled in shining patent leather

They follow, gliding with experience
their pointed sharp stilettos barely whisper
sliding across the polished parquet floors

in their sequined satins and hand stitched silks
frothed and full
with tiered and layered tulle

that rustle and swish
with the sway and the kiss
of every swirl and moment

each twirl, each turn
each tiny chance
to catch the eyes of judges
watching in the wings.