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Jorie Graham - Of The Ever-Changing Agitation In The Air

The man held his hands to his heart as
   he danced.
He slacked and swirled.
The doorways of the little city
blurred. Something
leaked out,
kindling the doorframes up,
making each entranceway
less true.
And darkness gathered
although it does not fall . . . And the little dance,
swinging this human all down the alleyway,
nervous little theme pushing itself along,
braiding, rehearsing,
constantly incomplete so turning and tacking -- 
oh what is there to finish? -- his robes made
   rustic by the reddish swirl,
which grows darker towards the end of the
avenue of course,
one hand on his chest,
one flung out to the side as he dances,
   taps, sings,
on his scuttling toes, now humming a little,
now closing his eyes as he twirls, growing smaller,
why does the sun rise? remember me always
   dear for I will
return -- 
liberty spooring in the evening air,
into which the lilacs open, the skirts uplift,
liberty and the blood-eye careening gently over 
   the giant earth,
and the cat in the doorway who does not
   mistake the world,
eyeing the spots where the birds must
eventually land --

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Of The Ever-Changing Agitation In The Air - Comments and Information

Poet: Jorie Graham
Poem: Of The Ever-Changing Agitation In The Air
Poem of the Day: Dec 8 2005
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