kismet school of danse orientale

we abscond with old Turkish and Egyptian caravans
servants dispatched into music's dawn
laden with our goods, zils, swords and lordly
instruments of show

radiant gossamer silks caress their shoulders
drums are legion

dumbeck, djembe, tar, conga
bongo, tabla for the Indo, kanjira
thavil, mazhar and duf
deep throated and strong

names mattering less than sand
when dancers begin again
shining, beautifully at ease, entrancing
our helwa

we unleash timeless beats
starting our whirl again, yala, yala
behest of the rhythms

baladii, maqsum and karslama
fire tribal bonds, their bodies
undulate, group and spiral to pounding secrets only
we recite, the familiar count
beguiling and kneeding them together

arms sway softly serpentine
paint the air and call us on
luring seductive branches above an oasis

draped in fragance, beckoning
where waters dabble, led
ginger-limbed by our clanging zils
brightly glinting from a female sun

mingling among crowds
our corterie unwinds her fervent patterns
earthly product of our fingers alight

drums thunder
lifting and parting
swaying them to the old stories
costumes ablaze and offering forged metals
pregnant, ornate and shimmering
hypnotic over a warm desert air

tuned hands and bodies answering

masmoudi, saudi, chiftitelli, bolero
raw moving, flowering
hips, arms, palms, bellies
reds, blues
tight teks and throbbing duns
jangling baubles, mirrors dazzling on their hips
riveting eyes that burn stares in all directions
fashioning trickery and imagined lust

driven upon them by rampant bodies and hands

such is their heat, veiled by jeweled shawls
shedding shards to the floor
coins
falling noiseless
piling at our blind tapping feet
enriching us