San Francisco, 1992

[cjchaffin]

Chris..I don't care that it's been done before. I can't resist the aura of a smoky bar and a torch song. I like the scene you painted here, but as a reader I have a major concern: focus.

Is feels like you couldn't decide if this was about jazz, or Ms. Simone, or the dancer. Personally, I find the image of the dancer very compelling. She is exotic, sexy, mysterious..but perhaps she doesn't even realize it. To me, this poem is about her and the rest of the images exist to give her context.

Below, I humbly offer suggestions to tighten up the verse..

Curling tendrils of tobacco haze
engulf the tiny space, hang
like ringlets over shots of whiskey
and mugs of warm beer.

I like the idea of tendrils with regard to smoke..it implies ascension and pervasiveness. That's why I don't think you need "haze" or "ringlets". It's too much description. And tendrils don't "engulf"..flames do that. Tendrils climb, they attach. So maybe..

Curling tendrils of smoke
fill the tiny space
above shots of whiskey
and mugs of warm beer.

A solitary dancer moves,
bracelets janglin’ and eyes heavy
with kohl, she captures old men
in mid drink as her hips sway
to Nina Simone.

"janglin'" feels too colloquial. I know this is a smoky bar, but the rest of the vernacular is different. It feels forced and not authentic.

As a reader, I like to imagine that this dance is spontaneous and not pretentious, not meant to be seductive. Maybe she is sorrowful over some loss, maybe she herself is being seduced by the music..who knows? But I can't take my eyes off her.

I don't know if the bracelet image is needed. Or maybe it is..but I'm trying to figure out how to make it fit.

Suggestion..

A solitary dancer moves,
eyes heavy with kohl,
hips swaying to Nina Simone,
bracelets jangling;
the old men are captured
in mid drink.

Her bronze skin burns
with the hot stares of the audience.
She soaks it all in, twirls on bare feet
as the high priestess of soul bewitches
us with heavy grooves.

A few more details develop her character just enough. Bronze skin, bare feet..wow. I like that she becomes aware she is being watched, then plays it up just a little.

I don't know that Nina Simone needs a second mention. Suggestion..

Her bronze skin burns
with their hot stares.
She soaks it in,
twirls on bare feet.

I close my eyes, tap fingers against glass,
whisper Nina’s words into the smoke
and breathe them back in again.
This is jazz, I think out loud,
this is pure unadulterated heat.

I like the shift from third person to first. It ushers in the closing lines well.

I keep thinking it would be intriguing if the narrator didn't disclose what he whispered, rather than giving in to another Nina Simone reference.

Also, the last two lines feel too obvious, like you don't have enough faith in your reader to draw the same conclusion. Suggestion..

I close my eyes,
tap fingers against glass,
whisper into the smoke
then breathe it back in.

Just ideas, of course. I like this poem a lot. Thank you, my friend.

H, thank you. i know you've seen this before but i wanted to revisit it again, see if i couldn't make it stronger with a few fresh sets of eyes. and you've done just that. these are some very valid points you raise with some great suggestions.

i've often thought about how the dancer should really be the focal point and not so much Nina's voice, or even the narrator's presence, for that matter. i think i'll narrow my focus and concentrate on her. thanks again.