Dance in Four Movements
I
When they first dance,
he has no real knowledge of
dancing.
The steps are hesitant, clumsy,
remote,
showing the beginner’s awkwardness.
Inside, his heart dances
with great elan & flair,
a flame flickering with ignorance.
There is a great bounty yet of
hope.
II
They meet again in a foreign land
& the grand dance resumes.
She pretends not to have followed
him there.
Their bodies now understand the
interplay,
energy & inertia, the mingling &
grace.
It is a dance of greed & desperation,
of long history & swaying need.
Their eyes meet & they
carefully proceed.
She follows his lead, the movements
bring happiness, even if it is only
illusion.
Such perfection is never real.
They thank the terpsichorean muse
before parting this pas de deux.
III
Years later, he is dancing alone.
He thinks back with gratitude
on his partner from kinder years.
He is devoted to the memories,
the steps & routines, how this
discipline freed him from the
usual,
the love that might tumble to
grief.
IV
The old man can only manage
a few brittle moves. The turns
are now accompanied by pain.
He gives his all to venture a dance
for all the dreams that have faded.
Spinning jumps now sputter forth,
mere shadows swapped for passion.
He knows the steps, but the body
refuses, and he knows the sorrow
of limits & bewilderment.
He longs for that first dance,
& a lifetime of learning,
one imperfect step at a time.
Gary Glauber
Gary Glauber is a poet, fiction writer, teacher, and former
music journalist. His works have received multiple Pushcart Prize and
Best of the Net nominations. He champions the underdog to the melodic rhythms
of obscure power pop. His two collections, Small Consolations (Aldrich Press)
and Worth the Candle (Five Oaks Press) and a chapbook Memory Marries Desire (Finishing
Line Press) are available through Amazon.
Tags:
Poetry