Heavy

A question mark
where a face should be,
like a black-and-white frame
with frozen eyes and lips
never to speak or smile
He dances, and the steps
are heavy
Before memory there was a father
but the table was missing a place
Nothing there to hold
He dances a confession-
an extra chair in the first row

He dances
The words are dark and the breathing slow,
but he dances
His steps are torn from the heart of things-
a story about an unknown face
A turn, a drop of sweat,
one more foot placed so assuredly so
A knee bent, an elbow turned up

With each step, not so heavy anymore
All the chairs are filled