Two-Step
by Michael Keshigian



We watched them gig
in the pit
playing funky jazz licks
in modal timbres
made me squirm.

I said,
“let’s blow this joint”
when this babe be-bopped from behind
hands in my hair
said we can really groove.

Flattered,
I danced through the night
till light
cut a ray
through her ceramic face

cracking beauty
into puzzle fragments.
Flaking,
she started to sing
the blues.





Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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