First Dance

There are one hundred and twelve seams

along the sidewalk on our block, plus

twenty eight cracks of varying length and width

that you tiptoe around, careful not to let loose

your spiderweb grasp of my hand.

Music plays in my mind sometimes,

random and unbidden,

Charlie Parker or Coltrane,

Mendelssohn or a rare acoustic set by the

Yeah Yeah Yeahs. On a bicycle these

same seams bump out the rhythm to

“Maps,” or “Bessie’s Blues.” Then I imagine

your wedding reception, our first dance,

you are twirling in our spiderweb grasp,

and I will be careful not to let go again.

c. 2012, by Martin A. Bartels (working draft)

Part of my new collection, "Unlanguage"