Keith Kopka, featured in the new Ocean State Review

KEITH KOPKA, FEATURED IN THE NEW OCEAN STATE REVIEW

The First Time I Ask a Woman to Dance

It’s a slow night, so C. and I decide
to close the bar early, and let the small crew
of regulars share whatever drugs
they have in exchange for beers and a space
to pretend our addictions are just one
hand-lettered clubhouse sign away
from our former innocence. This illusion
lasts until C. gets high enough to feel
generous and order a surprise buffet
of sex workers. It’s a gesture that, at first, succeeds

only in tuning the room’s existential thermostat
from sad dive bar to middle school formal.
Despite this fleet commissioned
to want us for the next two hours, here, too,
the boys stay surgically attached to their chairs
no matter how eagerly the girls smile at them,
hopeful to dance. But eventually, C. and the others
make their choices and disappear into a bathroom
or the back office. I envy how my friends

have aged more gracefully into loneliness
than I have, their ability to look at the darkened screens
we want to believe are the faces of these women
and see past their own reflections. Now, it’s just me.
everyone else is fucking, or, more accurately,
it’s me, a pile of cocaine, and one bored woman
named “Coral” staring at the Red Sox game on the bar TV
between the texts from her daughter who she says
is ob spring break down near Myrtle Beach.
With naked parental worry in her voice she’s sure
that I, of all people, can appreciate the danger
the girl is facing. Once, I thought courage

was what made that first boy manifest himself
from the safety of his dark gymnasium corner
to ask a girl onto the dance floor and grind
with her until a teacher separated them. But now,
I know what that teacher knew: it’s not just biology
making that boy’s decision. It’s also the fantasy

of a free meal that haunts him into action.
It’s Coral’s daughter, on her knees
in a kiddie pool brimmed with hot dogs and Vaseline,
for whom she has every reason to be afraid.
Because in minute, I’m going to ask this woman
what her name is again and if she has a favorite song.
Then, before she can answer, I’ll be at the jukebox
playing exactly what we both want to hear.

Notes on “The First Time I Ask A Woman To Dance”

One theme I continue to revisit in my poetry is the way in which masculinity, or toxic masculinity, is learned and expressed through behaviors that are often conditioned by external forces: societal norms, substance abuse, gender stereotypes, family, etc. This poem plays on readers’ expectations, using the title to position the poem in a foundational moment of sexual awakening, one of the many kinds of “basal” experiences of heterosexual masculinity, the first time a boy asks a girl to dance. However, the liminal space of the poem challenges this tradition by setting this scene in a much less romantic space with a much older and less innocent speaker.

The speaker and the setting are the main sources of narrative tension in the poem. We see a speaker who is clearly aware of what he “should” be doing according to social norms as demonstrated by his peers. However, he is resistant to these actions, unsure of how to behave, which recasts the awkwardness of teenage masculinity in an adult male body to argue that the misunderstanding of one’s place inside a traditional gender role does not end just because the biological process of puberty ends and one “officially” becomes a “man.” Instead, we see a speaker who is forcefully trying to project himself back into a more innocent role where asking a woman to dance is the end goal, rather than the beginning of an expected sexual exchange. However, the speaker’s reflection on this “innocence” fails him because it ultimately only grants more perspective on the conditioning that he has participated in. He can see the toxicity of such conditioning and how it has impacted generations of men and women, as represented by Coral’s daughter.

In this light, it is obvious that this is not, in fact, the first time the speaker has asked a woman to dance. However, it might be the first time that he has been honest with himself about his intentions when asking a woman to dance as he begins to understand his part in a damaging cycle that has an impact on generations to come.

Keith Kopka is the recipient of the 2019 Tampa Review Prize for his debut collection of poems, Count Four (University of Tampa Press, 2020). His poetry and criticism have recently appeared in Best New Poets, Mid-American Review, New Ohio Review, Berfrois, Ninth Letter, the International Journal of the Book, and many others. He is also the author of the critical text, Asking a Shadow to Dance: An Introduction to the Practice of Poetry (GRL 2018) and the recipient of the International Award for Excellence from the Books, Publishing & Libraries Research Network. Kopka is the Director of Operations for Writers Resist and a Senior Editor at Narrative Magazine. Born and Raised in Providence, Rhode Island, Keith spent many years playing in and touring with punk and hardcore bands all over the country. He’s currently an Assistant Professor at Holy Family University in Philadelphia.