IVAN KARENINE
Dancing Master
One step—two step—
Pardon if I use a pressure
My arm dictates the measure, Madame.
Listen
You who wonder why I dance no longer
At the court in Russia.
War's the reason—
I must fight or live elsewhere—
War has naught to do with dancing.
War is murder! Mars its wanton father.
Sometimes Earth brings forth a bastard.
On a silver night she smiles to say
"This son of mine I do not breed to fight"
I was born within this Mother-rhythm
Of listening feet and low and lissome laughter
Where ecstasy is breath and measure to the senses,
And I can never be a citizen of slaughter.
But Mars has sought to snare my feet with battle anthems,
And all the day inside my alien head
The rage that sped me here
Shrieks to follow after.
One step—two step—
Rhythmed like marching soldiers,
Swells to martial music
In a language spiked with swords.
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