Tuesday, January 13, 2015


My father recited poems at night
Or sang stray things – cowboy dirges,
Radio commercials, sea shanties
And some I cannot classify.
Because of this I remain certain
That six lessons from Madame Lazonga
Would  have me doing the rumba
And also La Conga.  I can not dance
Only because we've never met.

Lillith who, over the years, has developed
A taste for the lullabies designed
To keep her at bay, later told me
That she often stood on the fire escape
And sometimes sang along.

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