In Le Club African

by Melinda Ham 

In Le Club African

A woman and a man

Are dancing to the rhythm

Of the beat

The dark figures move

To the pulsating groove

Gyrating supple hips

Above their feet

As the dancers rock

There’s no need for talk

Their language is

A gesture or a glance

Smoke smothers the air

No one seems to care

More squeeze into

The ritual dance

Bodies glisten with sweat

Though they’ve only just met

The weight of heavy

Tropical night

They dance until dawn

With a shrug or a yawn

They slink home before

The first hint of light