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| Burlesque Amaud Jamaul Johnson |
Watch the fire undress him, how flame fingers each button, rolls back his collar, unzips him without sweet talk or mystery. See how the skin begins to gather at his ankles, how it slips into the embers, how it shimmers beneath him, unshapen, iridescent, as candlelight on a dark negligee. Come, look at him, at all his goods, how his whole body becomes song, an aria of light, a psalm's kaleidoscope. Listen as he lets loose an opus, night's national anthem, the tune you can't name, but can't stop humming. There, he burns brilliant as a blue note. |
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