DANCE SESSION

Bitsoup.org

The squeegeed ice in the great dim hall

Was clean and blue and fit for the ball;

So the music sounded and the lights glared out

And the cruel steel blades went swirling about

In flight fantastic and fancy free,

In crisp, clean spins, with gutsy glee— Etching the ice with outre art,

While the cruel bright blades

sliced sharp in my heart

Out of the leaping rushing spate

A voice sang out for a three-lobed eight;

The Ice fauns paired with their elfin sprites

To start their intricate woven rites.

In complex, structured demonstration

They captured Art in one equation;

In sweet incredible enthymeme

They proved the logic of cold Moon beam.

Out form the pattern of Killian and Blues

Emerged the sprite whom the Ice Gods choose

To show us weary earth-bound creatures

The cool, sweet lines of Beauty’s features.

Rosy her long limbs, snow white were her gants,

Rime blue was her jerkin, and merry her glance— Hoyden her hair bow, among the gallants.

Ice fairy Virginia, First in the Dance!

(Oh, great was the shock of the sudden stop

When the music ceased and the patterns broke

And fairyland melted in cigarette smoke

In the warm dull light of a coffee shop!)

RAH, June 1946