Fire dance

I hear the creaking of the stairs,
the pitter-patter of my heart,
her breath that hisses at my door;
nimbly she slinks into the room.
Dancing across the polished wood;
she leaps and swirls like Fred Astair.
Her fingers glide across the desk
and gather curtains to her face,
for but a moment there she rests.
Performs a perfect grand jeté
she lands with warm feet on my chest
and licks my tired old bones dry.

— Grieta Lindeque, Jul 16, 2010

About This Poem

About the Author

Country/Region: ZAF

Critiques

professor

15 years 10 months ago

Dear Grieta

I really enjoyed this little cameo piece. I'll be honest with you I vascillated between thinking you were referring to a cat-like creature and then a human child or monkey. The fingers suggested human or monkey but the tongue of a cat. Or may be it was some kind of spirit? Anyway the image was great if ambiguous. I do think at the end of the frist section "she" is repeated rather too much so perhaps you could change it to: "Then performs a grand jeté. Landing with warm (cushioned?) feet on my chest." Best wishes Keith

Grieta Lindeque

15 years 10 months ago

thanks

Keith, I thank you for your reply. The poem is in actual fact about fire dancing in the house. But you are right, it is perfect for a cat. I like that. I changed the one line to take care of the she repeating at the end. I appreciate your help with this. Grieta