Partners

Two men on the floor,

hands behind their backs.

Neither asked for this dance.

Both of them would say so.

Their fathers taught the steps.

Their fathers' fathers wrote them.

Nobody remembers the tune beginning.

Nobody plans to be here when it ends.

Turn. And turn. And turn.

If he stops, I fall.

If I stop, he falls.

So nobody stops.

Hold your partner close.

Closer.

This is how we stay alive.

We never stop turning.

The whole floor learned the step,

couple by couple, wall to wall,

everyone turning, hands hidden,

everyone certain of everyone else.

Behind the bar, the clock

stopped just short of the hour

so long ago

it looks like decoration now.

Turn. And turn. And turn.

If he stops, I fall.

If I stop, he falls.

So nobody stops.

Hold your partner close.

Closer.

This is how we stay alive.

We never stop turning.

The music stopped once.

Years ago. A breath.

Nobody fell.

Everybody kept turning in the silence,

hands behind their backs,

waiting.

Then the band, ashamed, came back.

Turn. And turn. And turn.

If he stops, I fall.

If I stop, he falls.

So nobody stops.

(turn... and turn... and turn...)