Can anyone help me with these Rita Dove Poems? I need to Anaylize them.?

Question:

Can anyone help me with these Rita Dove Poems? I need to Anaylize them.?

The first one is from the book Thomas and Beulah.

1. "Aurora Borealis"

This far south such crippling/
Radiance. People surge/
From their homes onto the streets, certain/
This is the end,/
For it is 1943/
And they are tired.//

Thomas walks out of the movie house/
And forgets where he is./
He is drowning and/
The darkness above him/
Spits and churns.//

What shines is a thought/
Which has lost its way. Helpless/
It hangs and shivers/
Like a veil. So much//

For despair./
Thomas, go home./

2. "Summit Beach,1921"
**don't have a copy** if you have one, I'd appriciate it.

Additional Details

3 months ago
3. "American Smooth"
We were dancing-- it must have
been a fox trot or a waltz,
something romantic but
requiring restraint,
rise and fall, precise
execution as we moved
into the next song without
stopping, two chest heaving
above a seven-league
stride, such perfect agony
one learns to smile through,
ecstatic mimicry
being the sine qua non
of American smooth.
And because I was distracted
by the effort of
keeping my frame
(leftward lean, head turned
just enough to gase out
past your ear and always
smiling, similing),
I didn't notice
how still you'd become until
we had done it
(for two measures?
four?)--achieved flight,
that swift and serene
magnificence,
before the earth
remembered who we were
and brought us down.

Best Answer - Chosen by Asker:

SUMMIT BEACH, 1921

The Negro beach jumped to the twitch
of an oil drum tattoo and a mandolin,
sweaters flying off the finest brown shoulders
this side of the world.

She sat by the fire, shawl moored
by a single fake cameo. She was cold,
thank you, she did not care to dance—
the scar on her knee winking
with the evening chill.

Papa had said don't be so fast,
you're all you've got. So she refused
to cut the wing, though she let the boys
bring her sassafras tea and drank it down
neat as a dropped hankie.

Her knee had itched in the cast
till she grew mean from bravery.
She could wait, she was gold.
When the right man smiled it would be
music skittering up her calf

like a chuckle. She could feel
the breeze in her ears like water,
like the air as a child when
she climbed Papa's shed and stepped off
the tin roof into blue,

with her parasol and invisible wings.