Dancing Queens


Emily Moore

Abba. New Year’s. Skirts and ties.
 
Adelle and Cassie running out to dance,
 
their jackets kicked beneath a bench.
 
Adelle in tails. Cassie’s criss-crossed straps.
 
 
Tiara wearing taffeta. The Gaysha
 
with her fliers. Aubrey moving stacks of glasses
 
towards the bar. The cold still on the cheeks
 
of girls who stepped outside to smoke,
 
 
the butch ones giving up their stools
 
to femmes in dirt-scuffed heels and rocker Ts
 
who flirt and cross their skinny knees
 
and sip their seven dollar drinks and stare
 
 
out over boots and belts and newsboy caps.
 
Adelle’s bare hands on Cassy’s back.