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.