Plotting The Drift Poem by Glenn Latal

Throw back your head and laugh a heaven into the sky.
An aerie for the mirthful gods.
Pipe me a joyful tune and I’ll sing of hope and trust and effort rewarded.
Restock the myths, the truisms by which we live.
Twirl before me a dervish spin with all the joyful madness within you.
Throw back your head and summon forth the atavistic howl in us all,
Amidst the soft glow of us burning through the gossamer bonds
Of the cosseted maze of our mannered days.

Come onto my tent.
Step and toe, fingers entwined behind. Sway and nod.
A very small dance to the rhythm of a ‘Hup, hup.’
And dip, and turn, and back.
Not quite a strut, more a deliberate canter.
I shall await laden with spice and drink and delicacy beyond any,
Unburden and splay my arms to the gift of yourself.
And you will throw back your head and corroborate my suspicion
That no matter how bedecked or bounteous, I am still just me.

Recumbent upon cushions strewn,
We admire and mock the thronging panoply.
Shall we honor with our colors
An indiscriminately fortunate entry to the lists,
Poised to do or die for our diversion.
All this is ours, to appreciate each,
According to any criteria we wish,
And fondle that grape with the full span
Of insouciant decadence your tongue possesses.

When twilight ebbs and the sky is swirling with black,
A breeze flickers the lamps.
We have sat and eaten and talked and danced and sung.
Now to our feet, the chill of night will clear the head.
Once more the elusive scuffs of light splotch the darkness.
Can I care tomorrow as I do tonight?
Can I remain impelled,
And still dance the hornpipe on the swaying deck of day,
While the gulls sing harmony with the wind in the shrouds?