In thought and prayer, off stage, in the air,
everywhere, Emerante de Pradine Morse,
dancer and singer in Port Au Prince
and New York, in the voices and steps
of children and grandchildren, in students
stepping through retinas, mixing visions
of Isadora Duncan and Martha Graham
adopted, adapted to vaoudou rhythms,
carnival inventions, by Emerante,
the dancer, your graceful step, stepping
up Oloffson stairs to share a coffee
with me and Richard on Thanksgiving,
a memory I frame here, in this objet d’art,
this gift. I recall we spoke of turkey
that day in Haiti. You said the bird
lay prepared at home, ready to eat.
You, a bird yourself, of a much lighter
species, rustling the air, almost foldable
in my hands. To honor you I will
exercise always, eat less meat, return
to those steps ready to genuflect
first then pirouette on a pin reciting
the words of this Emerante spirit passing.
