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“THE
BAND WAS
PLAYING
‘REQUIEM
FOR
A DEAD SON’
OFF KEY & SHE WAS DANCING LIKE
A CRAZY WOMAN”
by
Susan Dunn
Untitled by Britt Fohrman
I
told her she needed to get a job, but she wasn’t
listening.
In
fact I couldn’t
find her anywhere,
So
I looked through my
not-seeing eyes.
To
a band of griffons playing a gritty cacophony
of sounds no one could dance to,
Drawing
chisels and files
across guillotines
And
other instruments of torture
Drawing
bows across
nerves stretched to the breaking
point.
Barefoot,
On
a dance floor of broken glass,
With
psychedelic flash lights bouncing
off a ceiling at once too high and then too
low,
Cradling
the dead child in her arms,
She
was making her way across the room,
Pointing
each foot gracefully, like a ballet dancer,
Mouthing
over
and
over,
With
her tongue pursed between her teeth,
It
took so much
concentration,
1-2-3,
1-2-3
She
was making
a beautiful waltz
While
hell raged around her.
The
human spirit
will do what it can …
The
only thing I could
do was pick up a violin.
There
should be one instrument worthy of her dance.
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Dance, Mum, dance.
Dance like nobody's watching.
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