Hope wont Mind

Hope wont mind if she rests a little,
she wont mind, will she, if we Jazz
fingertips skimming along the cleft
of a taffeta dress, if we ease slightly
this way, a little to the right,
a little to the left, down
the slow drink notes
to the quick step chorus line,
drumming up the steady bass
piping syncopated tiptoes
to the drink me in skies, where she is, skirt -
hitched above her knees, stroking her weary feet,
looking down on her pedicure bed
from the starry, starry night.
Hope won't mind...will she?
If we take her daughters
pour wine to their puckered lips, soften
their robes, smooth the gathered pleats
at the meeting of their hips, and watch them dance
Jazz notes, a little this way, a little sway
that way, Hope won't mind, will she,
as she raises her eyes to the heavens, to the left,
to the right...Hope sighs, hums; switches
on the TV for News at Midnight,
and for dessert, her favourite Soap.