The New Compass: A Critical Review
Summer
Dances
Carmen Bugan
When gypsies played accordions
We turned into colliding winds
At corners of unpaved streets:
dust,
sweat,
bells,
high-heels,
waists
undulated
between
rough hands!
The cherries in the orchard turned
red with envy
As summers grew
into burning.
That was long ago and far from here.
It is quiet at the window and the
sound
Of the street accordion starts a
slow burning
In my face: I am trying to remember
how
The turning of the hora and the sirba stopped:
Were we turned into pillars of salt
frozen into dance,
Because we looked back at our
countries from
The eyes of the planes we first
flew?
Or did we simply tire of whirlwinds
As the aching bones do?
Bugan, Carmen. “Summer
Dances.” The New Compass:
A Critical Review 3 (June 2004) <http://www.thenewcompass.ca/jun2004/bugan.html>