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Kate Edwards

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Southern Sun

Walking out of the hotel into blinding light,
stepping into sun glare, pavements glittering,
dazzled, disorientated, the sky a lucid blue,
it seems like a place formed from imagination
and desire, a soft rolling sea under the shining,
colours illuminated, palms, plants and sand
made brilliant, chiaroscuro, an artists palate
unrolling in the streets, bemusing every corner,
bright canopies the only shade from the high glare.

If we hadn’t come to this sun struck place,
if we’d just stayed quietly at home, having
our usual arguments and entertainments
I would never have been so lured and misled.
Later, bright canvas of the night and the music,
music becomes an extension of the radiance,
calling me into the bar, you unwilling, but
I had to dance, an excitement calling me on,
on to the floor with strangers, you frowning.

I swung and floated, twirled and twisted,
My skirt swirling, my legs stretching,
The floor emptying, I, dancing alone,
the guitars reaching an apotheosis,
grand and beating flourish of Flamenco.
When I left the floor you slapped me, hard.
‘You’ve made a show of yourself, you fool.’
It was the beginning of the end, because
you don’t understand, I have to dance.

 

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