POP #3: Of tango and lost poems

Perhaps today's post began when a friend told me of her love of tango, and I remembered a visit to San Telmo, a small neighborhood in Buenos Aires back in 2009, a blissful Sunday afternoon filled with music and tango dancers in the streets.

I had forgotten the poem entirely but remembered the music, the dancing, and the photographs -- and so found this lost poem.

Sunday in San Telmo

She sketches a circle

with the tip of her shoe,
an invitation.
He nods his head,
accepts with a bow.
He presses a button 
on a boom box.

The tinny music of tango
fills the air
to the delight of passersby 
from the neighborhood
and tourists who have come
to San Telmo in Buenos Aires
to see in these dancers
those moments 
we now remember from our youth.

She arches her back;

he twirls her around,

their steps pause

and repeat,

their knees and ankles brush,

an intricate embrace

of precision and passion;

her head thrown back,

the music, the music revolves

a rondo,

and we are lost again

in the moment.

This week’s Poets on the Page prompt, posted on Monday, challenged us to look at a poem that we had abandoned in some way, revise it, and then share it. 

I thought about the poems I had written last year, not remembering even how many or what I might ‘do’ with them. Maybe someday I would put them into a little chapbook, or build them around family history,  a poetry memoir. So I collected them, rewrote some, organized them, and now have a working draft of 46 poems.

This once, this year,
these poems are not lost;
paired with photographs,
organized into a round of seasons,
these little troubadours
shine of this past year’s musings
and sing of light.

Stop by to read what other writers have posted for this week's Poets on the Page.

Or just maybe, watch the tango dancers!