Tai Chi

Behind the deserted city block

he waits for me, moving low and slow

graceful as a hunting thing

I put my baggage down on grey cement

take off my jacket and hold

a cold drink to my lips

He takes no account of my presence

Not yet. All his force is focused

into his body.

His brown hair tied back, as always

is curling wet from spring rain

He wears long shorts, an old wet shirt

I watch his arms and legs flash out

curl back, circling, circling,

until he finishes each programmed move

And then he smiles at me.

We stretch and punch and kick the air

until our blood is hot and

gentle sweat damps my palms and

runs between my breasts

Now we step in close

inside each others’ guarded space

legs between each other’s legs

Now I do not hold back

Now we do not miss

We strike with arms, shoulders, hips and backs

in martial dance.

I can spare no concentration

to look into his eyes, and yet I know

they will be dark with energy

still as water

Our breath has caught the same deep rhythm

as we push and retreat

Each strong blow is neutralised

He does not hurt me

Until

we break apart, for I am spent

and my knees cannot hold me now

I walk out from the sheltering square building

with its useful concrete tract

Into the soft rain that falls onto carob trees

and onto my hair

and my burning face

and I look at the silhouette

of small pale leaves on dark branches

I drink rain with my skin

Like a plant

And something yields inside me

to open me like a door

and connect me to the soft grey sky

Yes! I scream, or do I laugh

in silent joy

Can a spring shower quicken new growth

from the poor black branches of my heart

I turn

His face is tipped to the sky

Rain drips down his outspread arms

He smiles at me.

And I smile too.

Jane Virgo ©