80spoems/dance

I DANCE FOR YOU, TOO

It was difficult to maneuver her wheel chair into the dining room at the Mexican restaurant so we settled for patio seating near the heater. She strayed briefly from her health regimen to sip his margarita and when I commented on the colorful skirts which the waitresses wore, she said, “They would be nice for dancing,” – the word dancing repeating itself as if by reflex, the way our pains always seem to echo back at us and land at our feet in silence.

No reputation to risk,
I dance for you, too –
for the transcendence of all of us
to the tunes that Smokey wrote,
wiping the mantle in between steps.

In my bare feet or high heel shoes,
rolling my hips to release the strain,
a housekeeper’s dance,
dust cloth in hand.

When I feel brave I leap across the floor,
circling my arms from the shoulders,
knowing how my flesh is held together,
remembering the shoes
of a French woman I once knew.

I dance on the strong feet
I inherited from our mother,
which only our father has had
the graciousness to love.

I have danced my way back
to that time when we knew each other.
In with the dancing
there has been the daily fare
vacuuming, postage,
trips to the hardware store.
This is what the time
since then and now
has taught me.
I do not dance in idle dreams,
I dance while I work.

I have made curtains, repaired a mirror,
thrown away books and aprons
I will not use.
I arch my back and stretch my arms,
I roll my head and open my palms.
I dance for you, too.

1986