REVILE THE ACROBAT
Maiden, where are you going,
With impudence that makes your arms and legs
Unnecessary feathers?
Your eyes have interceded
Between the flesh and soul,
And show a light of reconciliation.
For whom have you prepared yourself?
I go to see an acrobat
Reviled by men, and acting
Within a lonely circus owned
By Mind, Soul, & Heart, Incorporated.
I love his limbs whose muscles
Compete with twirls of gossamer,
And Oh, I love him not
With the drooling, fevered weight of earth.
He turns my blood to one
Profusion of melted wings.
Maiden, why is this acrobat
Better than men who stand within
The favored halls of mind and heart,
Playing, with lust and dignity,
Violins and trumpets?
They are not better, and he,
Whose thoughtful quickness combines
The pliantness of mind and soul,
He is not worse—the thoughts of men
Stand still on high roofs of the mind,
Or borrow sorceries of flesh,
While he, with flimsy trails
Of ruffles on a gaudy jacket,
Springs into the air; assaults
Every stately, fierce, robust
Finality that men have made.
He cares not whether he is right or wrong.
He seeks a decorative speed
Of thought and soul, and he is not afraid
Of being insincere.
Men loathe him, but I clothe him
With magnificent, specific
Fabrics slighter than the remorse of a child
And bearing involved births of colors.
Strength is not alone
The size and thickness known to men!