|Something has carved a space within us.
We resonate hollow, now, as we have never done before;
we are as slow, mournful tolling bells who can hear each other ring.One warm May morning, I wake having remembered. I am 19 years old.
In a club. Bruce Springsteen’s ‘The River’ begins to play –
and my brand new boyfriend walks me to the floor.We have not danced before. This is a new connection. In my dress and heels,
I am unsure – teetering on every edge of discomfort –
but his hand is on the arc of my waist and he draws me in;
my arms rising to the smooth planes of his shoulders.
We talk, dance slowly, and talk again.
This is a gentle movement, ocean deep, of resonance and connection;
words spoken and anticipated in the space between.
That night I am giddy with his breath; the warmth of his skin and very pulse of him.
It has stayed with me since; this memory of connection – this togetherness.
The Gavotte – lines of circles made up of pairs
Dance is our body’s language. Moving in and back. Down, across and through.
And this is what is gone.
I cannot hug you now. Brush casually past you with a quick apology,
Yes, something has carved a space within us.
|Anne McMaster is a poet who lives on an old farm in the north west. Her work has been published widely in journals in the UK, Ireland and America. Her debut collection poems ‘Walking off the Land’ will be published by Hedgehog Poetry Press late autumn 2020.|