Tribe

Your eyes are drawn
across the dance floor.
A couple is shimmering there, 
fluidly rolling in and out of the crowd, 
spinning, disjointing,
reconnecting in mid-spin. 

You’re not mesmerized alone.
Everyone pulls back
to make room,
the crowd transformed
into a ring,
the darkness around a fire:

they are a fire now.
They are the fire now.
Flushed, whirling, aware of all
but unconcerned.
They know they’re the ones
giving warmth and light, the ones

glowing like
the entire history
of the tribe.

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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