WADE IN THE WATER
I wanted to say
Honey chile, let’s dance!
but didn’t move
from my place
in that dark corner.
She was a big black girl
with a small round face
and thick wide glasses.
She waited alone
on the other side of the room
as dancers moved
between us
graceful as small minnows
swimming through blue
shallow waters. I wanted to
wade right into the water
come up and make a big splash for her
on the other side of the room where
she’d stood all night staring
across the vast empty spaces
—as if peering across a big wide sea—
to pull her in up to her knees.
I knew the others would laugh
but so what.
We’d hold each other tight
and slowly wade out farther
until the water lifted us up
and carried us out on a crystal
blue tide of music.
From Bryant's collection, Stompin’ at the Grand Terrace: a jazz memoir in verse, published by Blueroad Press. Professor and alum Bryant retired this year.
