THE ARTIST

A poem by William Carlos Williams

Mr T. bareheaded in a soiled undershirt

his hair standing out on all sides

stood on his toes heels together

arms gracefully for the moment curled above his head.

Then he whirled about bounded into the air

and with an entrechat perfectly achieved
completed the figure.

My mother
taken by surprise
where she sat
in her invalid’s chair
was left speechless.

Bravo! she cried at last
and clapped her hands.

The man’s wife came from the kitchen: What goes on here? she said.

But the show was over.