Dominican son, Bantu bolero
first heard the night the taxi swept
me, sixteen, neighbor Michael, and his cousin
to Santo Domingo’s red-light barrio
after two Cokes and rum con limón.
Polyester palm tree shirt I barely filled
black hair lank and long like a girl’s
I trailed those boys to a patio of girls
head swelled, as twenty on benches tittered
made pick-me faces, same as at school.
I heard the speaker’s song: immense pain of loss,
smart of your parting, weeping black tears.
Girls’ mouths sang along, bright with lip gloss
hips swayed, yet eyes brimmed with sadness
Mixed to a slush of ice and eros.
I couldn’t. My companions picked and left
down a corridor. I stayed stuck, until an arm
pulled me in to dance, her letting hands roam
to the others’ laughter, asking what kept
me from doing what was natural.
I answered “Cindy,” invoked the faithless name
who gave me black tears back home.
All of them heard and sighed. It was enough
to still the hips of those who stood alone
together, as they watched us dance the son.
Johnny Payne’s work has recently appeared in Neon Door, Gasher Journal, Sparks of Calliope, Society for Classical Poets, The Chained Muse, and Soundings East. His most recent published novels are THE HARD SIDE OF THE RIVER and CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN KILLER, which won the IBPA Gold Medal for Horror in2021. His books of poetry VASSAL and HEAVEN OF ASHES were published by Mouthfeel Press. He has directed his plays DEATH BY ZEPHYR and CANNIBALS for Slingshot Players, Los Angeles.