can can
For Robin (1961 – 1996)
Full as an apple
one of us has fallen
and we stand, rusted gullies running
in the corners of our mouths
while we fold her song
into the hollows of our hands
and rail against the silent guest
who alters our anatomy
and transforms the moods and cycles
at our hot red garden
into a barren land.
We drink and drink
from sorrows cup until its dry
and sorrow’s dress grows tight and tears
in ashy layers which fall
about our ankles
where feet begin to scrape
and shuffle
hips circle, shoulders sway.
We kick, we swing, the full, the heavy
scrawny, short and tall
blending bony
shoulders, meaty thighs
into a salty chorus.
We can. we do
dance.
Norma Hammond
