He was not goofing off, but
meditating on the snatches of hymns 
that hovered protectively above the hurt

He was not goofing off, but
repulsing the stones hurled at him
by narrow-minded others

He was not goofing off, but 
managing as best he knew how
the pain of familial separation
the temptations 
pulling him up, down, down, up, all around
following nine years of living under the authority
of a petty tyrant 

Tonight, he exits the wings
dips his foot to the proving floor 
a whirlwind of strength, beauty and grace à la Rudolf Nureyev
and dances royally for the little African American girl
who needed a prince
©2021 by Trifoglio