Agbor Dancer by John Pepper Clark

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Agbor Dancer

See her caught in the throb of a drum 
Tippling from hide-brimmed stem 
Down lineal veins to ancestral core 
Opening out in her supple tan 
Limbs like fresh foliage in the sun.

See how entangled in the magic 
Maze of music
In trance she treads the intricate 
Pattern rippling crest after crest 
To meet the green clouds of the forest.

Tremulous beats wake trenchant 
In her heart a descant 
Tingling quick to her finger tips 
And toes virginal habits long 
Too atrophied for pen or tongue.

Could I, early sequester’d from my tribe, 
Free a lead-tether’d scribe 
I should answer her communal call 
Lose myself in her warm caress 
Intervolving earth, sky and flesh.

— John Pepper Clark

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