Waltzing With The Past.....Part 1 Poem by John Tansey

Even when I was young,
societies rising sun,
waltzing the moon in ballrooms
‘til it’s milk curdled under a yawning light.

A terse firm tart, flirting curfews
and groping life, I lusted to love

with my most feminine feature …
the youthful smoothness of my fingers;
long slender thimbles of nerve,
upon which I spun a stable of men.

Snapping my nails, they’d come
fumbling with lighters, cocktails

and shucked clamshells.
Oh, with my blood red tips
dipped in white gloves
for the affairs of black tie, among others;
I would stand, stroking
the shaft of a champagne glass.
Laughing amid clouds of smoke, big bands
and tables of beef bones and banter.

Hailing young suitors with a gesture,
coyly stroking my hair, I flirted with strangers

and, as long-stemmed roses, soon
rid my garden of such thorny lovers.