the skeleton just grins and I sing I'm all shock up
mmm mmm yeah yeah yeah
can tell Mr. Skelton is well into Elvis
swings its pelvis rattles its bones "Go Skeletoney goooo!"
my da yells "Donall son leave the ****** skeleton alone!"
"Plant ya now dig ya later!" I jive talk him
the skeleton comes to a stand still dangles from a wire
out of his skull I leave my Da's army sports stores
I always amazed that this skeleton was once
a man as alive as me
years later the army thinks the same
and plastic replaces bone
he's finally buried with full military honours flag draped coffin
3 volley salutes scattering the crows a future he
could never know become human for the last time
then the boy I was becomes the man I am
lighting a candle for my former dancing partner "Rest easy Mr. Bones...rest easy!"
I wrote of 'him' way back in 2007 and then lost the poem so this year. remembering the lost poem, I wrote this version. Then I lost this version. And then I found the old version and finally the new version again! I found it interesting to see the different ways of coming into a poem...same facts but a different trajectory as one enters the emotional atmosphere of the poem.
*
COME DANCING
I take the skeleton’s hand & man...do we dance?
I clasp his bony hand in mine give him a high five and dude...we jive!
No one can touch us now (we’re in a world of our own) .
We shake, rattle ‘n’ roll...yeah! Shake, rattle ‘n’ roll (then we) *** into dat kitchen ‘n’ rattle ‘em pots ‘n’ pans Den den den...den den den!
The skeleton flashes me a toothy grin.
“Man...you the one...you the one...what a groove...we’re in! ”
The transistorised air is alive as song after song drives me on.
The skeleton don’t break sweat! Me...my scalp prickles...sweat trickles down my spine.
Sunlight spills in the window & the dust motes go wild.
The skeleton places a bony hand on my clavicle & I place my hand on his sacroiliac.
We waltz eye socket to eye socket & patella to patella.
Gene Kelly sings:
"What a great day it’s been... what a rare mood I’m in Why it’s... almost like being in love!"
He’s a fine medical specimen.
He dangles from a thread in his head & the slightest breeze moves him ...gets him going.
I call him Mr. Bo Jangles.
He lives in my Dad’s army sport stores.
From the inner sanctum of his room my Dad’s army voice booms:
”Donall...leave that ****** skeleton alone! ”
And goes back to counting his *****.
The ledger grows & grows. (He mutters & mumbles to himself) .