To Fluttering Figure by Wassily Kandinsky
When the itches start inside his belly and, quick as
lightning, crackle down legs and out arms, flicker
into fingers, he sees himself as a hootchie cootchie
dancer, every little shiver blooming out his loosey-goosey
skin, he’d be a fire working itself across the stage,
no one knowing where he came from, just a blaze
of color and syncopation. Glory be, his rags are flapping.
He cannot sit a bit longer at this desk, tapping
out numbers, pinning letters onto paper, putting
things in order. He’s a jiver, a jumper, a humming-
bird and flea, he could raise folks outa their seats,
maybe outa pants ‘n shoes. If he could be
free to realize all he is, he knows he could
bring joy to the multitude, get the common blood
to flow ‘n flower. What this dull world deserves, himself
included: carnival sparklers, pulled down off the shelf.
Grace Marie Grafton
Grace Marie Grafton’s most recent book, Jester, was published by Hip Pocket Press. She is the author of six collections of poetry. Her poems won first prize in the Soul Making contest (PEN women, San Francisco), in the annual Bellingham Review contest, Honorable Mention from Anderbo and Sycamore Review, and have twice been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Poems recently appear in Basalt, Sin Fronteras, The Cortland Review, Canary, CA Quarterly, Askew, Fifth Wednesday Journal, Ambush Review.
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