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His Granddaughter Arrives


ISSUE:  Spring 1993
I am a gray man leaning in a corner,
but my heart sizzles with excitement,

a trapeze artist so incandescent
the ends of the earth seem

bits of string you tie on your finger
to remember by.

I have clearly done my part
in passing
on.
Who would have thought the burden
could be so easy heavy easy,

turning over and over up there—
embodiment—
until the outstretched hand
curls over the rung of the little swing
again, fits it, body
and arc of body one sweet
 engagement.

Comes time.
The gray man in the corner
feels his heart go out
to her, for her,

cartwheel in the little space
it keeps up, generating to no end.

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