Club beat booming, vibrating through the floors
covered in glitter, sparkling with slippery champagne,
elliptic lights, white, red, blue and green, tainted
bared shoulders, endless legs, shadowed by black
sequins, tight to the ass, moving as one
except for the center where the spotlight shines
on a single dancer, waves of brown hair
cascading down a bare back, dipping to a black
zipper of a scrunched dress, glued like a tattoo
to the rhythmic curves and porcelain skin.
The eyes glance, catch contact with a few lucky
men, but it's the dance that has mesmerized.
Arms and hips, moving to entrance, every muscle
in complete military control, yet seeming so impossible.
She knows she's Queen of the dance floor.
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