She coaxed him into lessons
With a tug on his sleeve
And a kiss that tasted of
Dark bitter chocolate—

The dance, he learned,
Begins at salida:
Exit is entrance,
Departure beginning.

Right foot inside,
Right foot outside.
Golpe, cruzada.
Caricia, entrada.

Slow, slow,
Quick quick, slow.
Molinete, zarandeo.
Intrusione, boleo.

Name these things
Then forget their names:
Passion is movement,
And movement needs no words.
For over time the rhythm changes
Until at last the dance begins.

Tonight, for him,
High-waisted trousers,
Halogen white tuxedo shirt.
For her a wisp, a whirl,
And a skirt slit up to here.

Shoulders so,
Eyes locked,
Faces cocked.
They walk—
A tandem cat—
He, deciding;
She, yielding
To a place
In his arms
That she controls.

They pause,
She smiles,
And caresses him
With her thigh.

They finish with rapid
High-stepping sacadas,
Intertwining feet and legs:
His fearless steps,
Her careless stilettos.

The music stops,
But not the rhythm of her breath,
Or the resonance of her eyes.
He studies her face,
Framed in jagged auburn;
Watches her hand move
To touch his ear,
And he whispers:

I saw you with him.

Gary Witt

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/exhibition-dancing-ii-the-tango/