Monday, March 19, 2018
The Dance
Never touching, they danced
In an isolation gleaned
From others they had seen --
Arms and legs
Flailing, flaring into an
effervescent devotion.
Dranni with the flaxen
Hair sits on her porch
Braiding, brooding all
She has seen and felt
From the night before
Which weighs her down.
Should she be ashamed?
Why should anyone judge?
And she thought that no
One would, or if they did
It would be in a language no
One would understand. I
Was in the woods back then,
Covered in shadow, hiking
Rhythmically in my notion
Of how it came to be and
Would end, given its
Trajectory. Democracy had
Failed. Adams was right to
Fear the aristocracy which
When formalized became
A bureaucracy sponsored
By judges who used words
Only they could understand.
Ted Kaczynski thought he
Understood and wrote his
Letters which no one could
Dance to or feel his madness
Despite his careful phraseology.
They may be closing in for all I
Know – more come each week
Seeking a darkness of their own --
Tents pulled tight each night – Dogs
Heard to whimper, coyotes howl.
Eventually there is only the sound of
Heavy breathing and the smell of sweat.
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