Black
Her fan was black

Her eyes sparkled seductively
Like the night sky
Peering over her fan
Inviting to the close heat of tango.

So, I held her close.
She was old.
Like a prima ballerina
Hard, graceful crone.

Red
Her lips were red

She smiled at the first turn,
And the bone of her teeth
Reflected Death
Over my left shoulder
Reaching for me
Now.

But how could I love her less?
Even as she stripped me
Of simpering immortality,
Even as the odor of my rot
Gagged me with its necessity,
Even as she stole my life,
She stole a kiss.

Black
Her dress was black

We turned again.
I could feel the teeth of her vagina
As she ground against me.
She was everyWoman
I had ever fantasized about,
Had jerked off to
In the lonely isolation of shower stalls,
Had ached for at 3:00 a.m.
In empty-bedded rage.
She was the glamour of possible sex,
And she wanted me
Now.

But I was limp.
Harp-hearted beating, excited, embarrassed,
There was no blood within me
To satisfy the hunger of her.
My frustration
Was wet shame crawling down my cheeks
As she twirled me from her
Yet still holding my hand
Scornful
Yet still holding my hand.

White
Her teeth were white

She squeezed my stomach painfully
As we turned this time,
Pushing me to be free, her equal.
She wanted me strong and angry.
She wanted me to be a man,
To be tall and commanding
Now.

But every power I thought I had
Disintegrated at her touch.
I lowered my head,
Inadequate,
Ineffectual,
A nothing longing for invisibility,
But she would not let me go.
She mashed her check against mine,
And pulled me reluctant forward.

Black
Her eyes were black

She lifted my chin as we turned this time,
Met my eyes, and put her hand on my chest.
She adored me. Me!
She looked deep into me,
Wanting me to love her back
Heart-beat soul union invitation
Open unconditional forever
Now.

A stale funk of indifference
Filled me as I tried to see her.
What did it matter, this love?
Lifeless, sexless, powerless,
What could love mean?

Red
The rose was red

Between her teeth.
Daring me to speak my pain,
She put her hand behind my neck
At the next turn.
Her eyes mocked me,
Daring me to poetry,
Daring me to eloquence,
Daring me to wit
Now.

But I was made dumb
By her beauty
By her power
By this dance
This dance of lacking and despite.
She laughed at me
Through gritted teeth
And pulled me slack-jawed on.

Black
Her hair was black

We turned again.
She put her hand on my forehead,
A mother checking for fever.
She wanted me to dream her.
She wanted to know my vision,
To share the colors of my imagination
Now.

But she was the only thing
I could see.
I poised stolid,
Rooted in the limits of real,
Incapable of seeing more.
Now, she pitied me.
Now, her holding me was contempt.
She drug me
Stumbling, one last pass.

White
The room was white

She flung her hand over my head
As we turned the last turn.
She looked in my eyes
Sadly seeking some sign of sanity,
Questing for the wholesome man
I once had been,
Reaching for the rational in me
Now.

But rubber rabbits raved
Boing against a splattered self
Shards of lucidity slit
Pain, hurt, frigid, rigid, snap,
Oh, ow, wow, Om, Mother, Moma, Ma

Black
The hole was black

She dropped me
Gibbering
Screaming
Falling
Into
Black
     (Of night)
And red
     (Of womb)
And white
     (Of birth)

May I have this dance,
My Lady?