Two Ways to Dance

Let them sing and chant,
the ones hooded in widow’s black,
of serendipity and pain,
of blood and wood
and a world of perpetual rain.
Incense from the virgins
clouds the nave and the swinging brain.
Let them dance a jig on angel wings
from Eden to the harlot and the beast,
to the catastrophic end of things.

I shall not moan for the Sky Father

but will search for the coquette

at the outdoor Parisian café.

The City of Lights is a moon,

and I shall dance a jig that sings

for Monique or Marie or whomever

she may turn out to be.

I shall drink an aperitif

to the juice running from the pulp of life

and the beginning of all living things.

~William Hammett

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