Maura Harvey's Poetry   Color Memory Dancing with Daddy Destined Fifth Guitar The Gray-haired Woman Older Brother Park Scribe Sacred Breath Starfish Talents The Nest The New House Traveler Two Volcanoes Questions for Cuba Preguntas Para Cuba Home page maura@mauraharvey.com

Dancing with Daddy on dewy mornings we would go out to the countryside you showed me how to chew on wild herbs I learned the names of flowers chosen for lost lessons, I hugged the trunks of magical oaks to hear the voice of their insides I found the rings where the good faeries dance and the grotto where elves carry off bad children we dedicated afternoons to obligations I counted syllables for my moon sonnet washed the car in the patio's shade opened sardine cans without cutting myself on the sharp key you taught me to stand pain like the Stoics did I became a Greek philosopher but then you quoted Omar so that I would grow to taste life hour by hour like grapes in the sunny vineyard there were classes on loving your neighbor, children, animals classes on everything only one class was missing dancing class we walked the hills on turbid nights you sang Irish ballads of war and unlove I did not dare look into your blue poet eyes eyes that bewitched with confusing affection today I take your arm to help you walk I am invaded by the memory of when you took me by the hand to discover an enchanted world Daddy, why did you never ask me to dance? not on my wedding day nor any day today I begin the waltz never danced betraying memory with tears I take your hand to dance with me