Pugliese

(poo-glee-ay-zee)

my grief
in listening to music that I cannot dance to
is just the feeling of my heart leaving my body
as it soars across the dance floor
begging my feet to follow

it is the same pleasurable agony
of missing the one you love,
my brain places each step
and says oh!
wouldn’t it feel good to move this way?
naively seeking a reunion
that will never arrive

but my affair
with listening to Pugliese,
the beast of the tango world
that dancers study for years to master,
is like having my body hurled across the room
against the walls
against the ceiling

it screams why
aren’t
you
dancing

you
will never be enough

you

are

not

worthy

And yet I return to it
to be thrown again
and again and again

a fractured soul
with a battered body
returning to her abusive lover

how I long for the way Pugliese hurts me

—Kella Hanna-Wayne ©2020