Beyond the Circumstance of Sight

This morning I called down the twin blessings 

Of black coffee and French toast 

I wanted to resurrect the flickering shape 

Of summer winding her body into all my back alleys 

With names like Funky Butt, Flea Hop, Snake Hips, 

Sugar Foot or Susie Q. 

I wanted each dancing silhouette to stretch a net 

Across my floor so we could haul in our catch 

Of one hundred dancing fish and create the Creole Tango 

Or Fire-Eaters Waltz

 
I wanted New Orleans to be my dance partner 

My sweet song, my sugar sprinkled on toast 

Or French Cameroon with pearls at her throat, 

My man blowing his sax, my wanton, my girl, 

My ghost. 

I wanted the Boogie Woogie to happen in my bones 

So birds would make their spring nests in 

The windows of my soul, and I could hold you naked 

As some new beginning where we slide our dancing feet 

In circles of salt on your grandmother’s floors, 

And the moon melts in all our wine glasses 

Causing the boy you flirted with to 

Carry you home on his back. 

I wanted the wafer of Christ placed on my tongue 

So I could eat New Orleans in a holy ceremony 

And get blessed with Jitterbug steps 

That run thicker than blood or water 

Those moves with no names, that hold out their arms 

From bodies that smell like the Jive or just risen bread to say

 
Come on home 

Lay your head on my chest 

Follow my lead in this shuffle foot shim sham 

This hot morning, black night, circle Champion Strut, 

For a New Orleans kind of prayer.