east lake samba


They walk in threes through parks and city streets.
Their hips move to a samba in their soul.
They stride in syncopation to the beats,
waiting for safe adventure to unfold.
Young unsuckled breasts point to the sky,
turning heads from cars in even rhythm.
They do not know the power it supplies
until their breasts point downward
toward their children.
But seasoned women know about these powers,
once innocent, and so naively used
until we learned that men possessed night hours,
and were so defiled, there was no more to lose.
We walk in threes now for a different reason—
the streets, the night commit to females, treason.