In Memoriam of Frankie Manning

At Vanderbilt, I wrote this poem in a forms class as a rough iambic sonnet. "Lindy Hop" was based off of the idea I once heard Frankie say, which was to (more or less) "Fall in love with your partner for the span of the dance." He went on to joke with us that it would only have to be for three minutes, worst come to worst! :) Also, Frankie always described the beginning of the swing out as the action of "bowing to your queen."

Although the poem doesn't necessarily succeed in this form, I felt that preserving the sentiment of that time in my life (sophomore year in college) would be worthwhile to put online prior to polishing. So here it is, and with it, I send my love and gratitude to Frankie, his friends, his family, and the world of Lindy Hop that has become my home.


Lindy Hop

Eight count, then six, shoe leather spins wood-pressed,
slides, swivel-steps, tuck turns, and kick-ball-change
around the jittery bug clutter, dressed
with golden beads which swing and sway, arranged
as dripping strands of sun glass down her neck.
He bows and, offering a hand to lead,
she follows, calmly as a queen. They peck
and triple-step to Duke, and as the silver seeds
in music grow again, the Jazz entwines
the frames in rhythmic spheres around the floor,
entrancing their movement with vine-like lines
which wrap and twirl and turn around the core.
She smiles cool; he dips her low; she leaves--
to find three-minute love in new shirtsleeves.

-Abigail Browning