Intimate Curve

THE RED DRESS IN THE GARDEN

In this narrow footpath along wall and garden

under the blood moon, between there

and here, I lie down on my woman belly

navigate longitude and latitude with fingertips stretched far from toes

measure the press of gravity

and trust the intimate curve we share in the dark.

Ear to ground I hear far away Flamenco guitars —-

I imagine faint seismic drumming of my own footbeats

dancing in the flare of my ruffled, red dress.

I must do this —- ride this life in the garden

between here and distant music

between the hold and the skirt’s swirl —-

body and soul entire

embracing the unmistakable

ever discernible turning of the earth.

– D.G. Dalponte

Nostrums from Nonni