Moon Dance

Moon Dance

A ghostly white cat scuttles for safety
From the traitorous moon’s reflection while
I sit, hidden in the darkness, and smoke.

Black men walk the street and cross
When they notice me, a white woman, sitting
Alone on the stoop. They don’t want trouble.

None of us wants trouble – not the cat,
Not the black men, not me. I want to live
Bare-footed and dance in a meadow.

Instead buildings stand shoulder to shoulder
And crowd me, push me, smother me with
Their occupants’ conversations and shouts.

I was born to walk barefoot on grass, yet
My journey has brought me to this godless
Urban forest where even the cats live in fear.

I stroll through the garden to relax
(And to give the black men respite from
Local cultural expectations that I don’t expect)

And I sway in the darkness, hidden from
The treacherous moon’s light, and I dance
As a loving wind brushes my hair with his lips.

This ephemeral moonlight ballet will sustain me
Through another month of imprisonment in this
Strange cold place called the city.

(c) 2005 Ginger Hamilton Caudill