Parris Garnier


       With gratitude to Christina Wos Donnelly


Let Us have an entertainment: a Baryshnikov,
a Farrell, dancing -- Balanchine, of course.  

In this, let Us see how they move
her arc to his uplifting. 

Let Us see if man gets close to feeling
the pain of labor with a kick in the balls.

Yes, let Us see what dance might be made
on three legs in divine working order. 


Her seventh grade claim-to-fame lay
largely in her 34-C cup which, at five-three,
made her outstanding -- not good

at teen club, where she went unasked
until the slow closing dance (last chance
for the timid) when he finally uncrossed
his legs, crossed fingers and the room
to stutter inchoately but amazingly 

escorted her onto the floor, stunned
by her breasts and afraid to hold her too
close lest she detect his un-cool
erection, growing even larger in his mind
than his pants until it seemed she danced
with but a giant penis -- too petrified
to speak for fear of what might come
leaking out, he smiled 

40 years late
in a different life, another space
where by chance encounter he learned
she had found him standoffish.  


In lessons the Dance-Master presses us
together, perfecting our rumba. I welcome
the knowing possession of your holding
me swollen to your belly. Only ballroom,

but I need finally to know all the steps,
all the dances you have lived so hard
to learn and hold inside. After all this time,
itís my job to find new ways to move

with you, to be the last stage of all
you desire. But I also yearn
to immerse me in this poesy, to know
as none before the undulant craft

in your hips, the sway of your making.
Your dresses move. 

Date of Birth: November 21, 1951
Location: Washington, DC
Occupation: Limo Driver
Publications: Exquisite Corpse, Wordwrights, Rogue Scholars
Awards: Winner of an Honorable Mention in the Junior Scholastic Poetry Achievement Contest (1965)
Other: Frequent reader at Washington, DC, and Buffalo, NY, venues

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