Stephen W. Carter

      holds down
      two jobs

      "to make ends meet"
      he says


      days
      he teaches children
      not
          to dance
                   between the earth's dark pull
                         and the bright moon's longing
      but to walk
                 in their appointed places


      nights he entertains
      chattering customers
      put down their strong drinks
      to stumble to the dance floor


      late
      when the music has faded
      into darkness
      he sits on the edge of his bed
      listening
      for the sound
      of his own voice