A Dancer

In her loins lie
the possibilities that
only poets dare
to dream of,
in every gesture there
is poetry and subtlety
of a rose opening up
its tender petals,
there is music in her
breasts that makes
you tingle with
a strange desire
to soar in the rhythm
of the senses--
there is beauty and
elegance in her dance,
a pure celebration
of her being,
now she is a star,
bright and radiant
like a dream,
now she found a form
all her own--
unfettered by the
puritan morality
of covering up your private parts--
she was never just parts,
she is always whole,
always herself since the
day she was born--alive
and free and naked
and proud of her body
and her past and her
dreams in a world
where no one dreams
anymore or walks
around like a zombie
with a can of beer,
smacking one's lips, pointing
and remarking:
"Oh baby!  Check out that ass!
 Ain't she a piece!"
Yes, many things have a price.
But beauty is always priceless.

                                    May 16, 1992
                                 --Alexander Shaumyan