A short poem from my recently published 16th collection, What Shines. It’s in tercets, but you won’t see that, alas…Or will you?
HiFi, 1952
As yet there was only one sister,
still too young for school.
We three brothers weren’t much older.
I suspect that what I say is
more than a bit sentimental
and may not have a basis
in what was real back then.
So be it but let me keep it,
the four of us hearing the tune,
the strings and horns so alive.
It’s good to be where we are,
near our parents’ new HiFi,
which spills into every corner.
The fidelity – almost shocking.
They’ve told us about its wonders,
and now at last they own one.
Having adjusted some knob,
they stand stone-still for a moment,
as if in a sort of trance.
Of course they’re both in the grave now
and of course they no longer dance,
cheeks touching– or anyhow–
but as long as I say so they do.
Indeed the song I hear now
is precisely “Cheek to Cheek.”
Now why would it talk about swimming
in a river or a creek?
Or maybe it’s actually fishing.
Who cares? Strange bliss pours forth
as long as the record keeps spinning.
Sickness, regret and death
will all arrive in time.
And rancor. I won’t forget
the rancor. This evening, however,
we brothers and sisters watch,
enchanted, four children together
on the couch with the fancy lace
while our faithful parents glide
in what looks like a fond embrace.
It's "I love to go out fishing/in a river or creek" which is of course a ridiculous line, and 'swimming' would have been better, but Fred Astaire pulled it off.
This is a lovely poem. My parents danced in the grocery store when a song of their youth (1930s-40s) came on. My dad was 6' 2" and my mama 5' 1/2" so that they danced not cheek to cheek, as she used to joke, but 'forehead to tie clasp." (Remember tie clasps?) They fought horribly at home, and often, but I remember the dancing, too. Isn't that what we want for our children?
Lord, that last line is stunning.