Tag Archives: Poem

Poem: “I Shall Make My Soul Dance”

Now shall I make my soul dance,
stir it to twisting delirium,
this wreck of a body I’ll lift
on high.

A violent luck and embellished instruction
to no more quaint suffering
than a bowl of soup
for strained throat which howled at life
like a mutt chasing cars.

Though our bones mingle,
and my fingers quake,
this is how I shall make my soul
dance
and preach furious chance—
even on Saturdays,
even when god sleeps,
even when the sun dies.

That’s when I shall make my soul dance.

Chris