Dance Lesson: A Poem

And I felt then the easing away of the dance,
the not knowing a lien against,
you giving in to my giving up,
and the battle for the samba lost.

We will dance the fox trot like old people, then,
you said,
your feet suddenly sunk into a clobber pose
and your lips pulled in over your teeth.
Remorse was the mood:
yours, mine,
the victims we make of ourselves.