13thWR

IMBALANCE

A step, smooth and easy, flows
into a stumble off a curb;

the tumble to a knee
scrapes the skin;

and I look away
from the clump of boys laughing, pointing,

pirouetting gracefully on heel and toe as they
double over, punch shoulders, slap hands, yell...

I move away, straightening shoulders, looking
straight ahead, face coloring behind my beard;

much like the night she patted my paunch
at the party with a friendly grin,

asked me how the old man was doing,
just before I asked for a dance...

- Michael L. Newell