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.
