The natural order-

I never knew that he could dance,
this man who stood before affection
as if before a lash.
I had perhaps scorned him
in his flashing rages over hinges
or his witherings under mother's gaze.
Though he gathered us in family
and led us across continents,
though he was trite authority
and gifts from airport news stands,
I kept looking for a weight
beyond a candy bar at nine o'clock.

The Carolinan hills that pushed him
from East 82nd to Cedar Creek
could not foretell a thing to his child.
The patterns of the razorblade
when he removed his beard
left no message of import.
Even the scents of morning kisses,
replete with light like smoke,
were no more than semaphores
of wool and Polo cologne,
obscuring my sensual gathering.

But I was choked with a son's fear
when I first saw him dance,
as certitude and grace finally
took this man above me
and hid him from all words.




2/10/91
GLS