When I come visit you, will you dub me
king, dance for me on Central Park’s
great lawn,
your favorite Beethoven symphony
or Chopin étude
caressing our dawn
light and us? I’ll humbly study your grace,
our world’s only ballerina, revel
in classic glow of your van Honthorst face
in The Matchmaker.
Who knows what level
heaven finds in existence. Can’t it live
here with us? Back home in your living room,
secure in our privacy, will you give
me your lithe arms, wrap me in tender womb
of your caress as we did at the Leap?
Will you dance with
me? Let our souls fall deep
until we whirl and meld to one, then sleep?
Roger Armbrust
June 9, 2012
