Dancing with Monsters When Men Have No Feet

You go dancing with monsters

When men have no feet

You meet them down

In the light that rambles
Off the rolling waves

Dressed in your silk

And your saffron

And petals

The monsters breathe on your neck

And ask you for numbers

That you won’t give

They’re no better than men

But they conceal it well

Horns hidden by hats

Tails tucked into tuxedos

Accents dulled

Claws filed down

You ask them for tax advice

And they recommend a guy

Downtown

Who won’t ask questions

And deducts like a butcher

But mostly

You dance

Off at sea

There are boats

With men

That cannot

Come to port

Up on the skyline

Saints flicker

In windows

Where people

Refuse to go to bed

But won’t eat either

For fear of monsters

For fear of being eaten

For fear of not knowing

How to dance

The monsters don’t step on your toes

But they do ask you

About your children

And when you tell them

You don’t have any

They express their disappointment

Children are wonderful, they tell you

And you agree that, yes, they probably are

But that’s just not where your life is right now

They pretend to understand

While casting their eyes up and down in a way

That says they don’t understand a thing

The petals fall off your dress

And a circle forms

Around you

And your dancing partner

As though what you were doing

Was some pagan ritual

Meant to summon

Something other than

A body in motion

A rhythm

A song

You remember the last man you loved

Who lost his feet

When he stuck them under the bed

Daring something to happen

Only to find that things often do

When you dare them to

That man couldn’t dance again

And without dancing

How can you have love?

And without love

You sneak off to a city

And find monsters

Next to warehouses

And harbors

Where men can only dream

Of docking

The monsters tie their ties

And tell their tales

And sneeze their fire

Up into the air

Laughing at their incineration

Amused by inflammation

Your feet begin hurting

Around two

And so you excuse yourself

And catch a cab home

As you tuck yourself in

You’re tempted to look under the bed

But all you’ll find

Is that library book

You never returned

And a pair of stockings

You ripped the last time

You went dancing

The monsters are still out in the night

Finding other partners

Breathing on other necks

Hiding their horns

From whomever might be tempted

To take them home

As you fall asleep

You swear you can hear

A low calling

Out on the street

A somber siren

Like a ship’s horn

If ship’s horns

Could play sambas

You think about glancing out the window

To see if the man you left

All those years ago

Finally found a way

To get to you

If his feet grew back

And his courage returned

The ship’s horn rolls

The siren calls

And a morning walks up the street

On two brand new feet