Poem: Pas de Deux: Balletomane in Malaysia

I was nervous when we met. You were a shade of color one finds only in Africa, that continent of a thousand and one dialects, and I'd never seen anyone so slender. Sensing my shyness, you began dancing effortlessly, first ballet, then hip hop, your graceful half-twirl more expert than your elbow pumps. I understood, looking at your naked movements, all seamlessly continuous, why politicians and billionaires build grand theaters.

In the shower, my stiff, pillowy hands moving downwards, I said you were small everywhere—until I reached your feet. At 48 kilograms vs. 220 pounds, our feet were improbable fraternal twins. Feeling a one-sided splendor, I moved backwards as fluidly as possible, washing your long toe while maneuvering to a different position. I offered a plié to demonstrate—and settle—our differences. After a failed attempt to grasp my femur, you made a fist, your second punch more rigorous, more delightful than your first.

When you glissaded to dry yourself, I followed, and we stood face to face. I thought your shoulders, a taut heart shape, were your best feature, but you shook your head. Studying your eyes, I explained they resembled the Eye of Horus, and I knew now why Egyptians believed your ancestors a symbol of good health. After a quick glance upwards--as if on cue--you switched from en face, readied yourself for a finale, and left me wanting to learn a grand reverence. 

© Matthew Mehdi Rafat (2020)

Bonus: "There is more diversity in pigmentation variation in Africa than anywhere else in the world. And yet pigmentation, skin colour, is the key founding principle of race as a social construct." -- Adam Rutherford (2020)