Dancers

The ladies at the Nursing Home Dance

While the old men watch them

The band plays In the Mood,

but no one is dancing except Mr. John

in his bright yellow suit.

He bops and boogies, jitterbugging

over to Miss Millie.

He releases her hand when

she screams “Arthritis!”

Music jangles against the ceiling,

raining on silver heads like confetti

at a welcome-home parade

prompting Mr. John

to pull Mrs. Smitty

into a Fred Astaire whirl.

They dance away fifty years.

Roses bloom on her cheeks

and life, on his.

At song’s end, Mr. John

bends his partner backwards

in a swooping, ballroom kiss.

Dour Mr. Smitty knocks over

a chair, shuffles toward Mr. John

to punch him in the mouth

while Mrs. Smitty giggles

fanning herself like a high school girl

on her first date.

Previously Published by Pennsylvania Poetry Society-2016