Using her toes like finely tuned weapons
she moves on the balls of her feet,
knowing the choreography by heart.
Like hidden halves of ivory keys
she taps out the chords that
reverberate and swell.

His eyes trace her calves
like the roads on a hand-drawn map.
She moves to the pool’s edge and dips
her left foot in, skimming it through
the water’s surface like a weighted
teaspoon.

Her insides are a nest of electric
wasps noiselessly stinging and generating
the heat that flushes her cheeks.
She waits, her back turned, for him
to fill the space
just as he waits for her to turn
back and finally meet his gaze.