Color Club
by Michael Dean
every night our dance begins with a congress of bones
limbs bent around music like equations allergic to occasion
like the yellow neck of a dandelion sprung up too early
a shimmering hodgepodge of cellulose milk & frenetic ritual
like the rite of rhyming fragile with opulence our peace is made
in motion clutching our beat-down waterbottles stirring with strangers
into the silver shimmer of teased hair just high off the backwash air
off the rhythm of rhyming with another set of sweaty legs slick with it
stomping the ballroom maple till it rings till we throw
our bodies under the floorboards with will not gravity
trains roaring lights whipping air bowing under the joy
of noise till someone gives themselves to a higher ghost
sinking into the streetside bricks into an electric blue bus seat
giving thanks to the driver for safe passage home.
Michael Dean is a poet based in Chicago. They are pursuing an M.A. in Writing and Publishing at DePaul University. When they are not in class, they enjoy watching Lake Michigan at night and collecting new words.