Nijinsky’s Satyr Sonnet
Up on stage let me dance by painted sun-
ribbon rivers. It is all a romance.
I prance through white fields, painted dun-ribbon
backdrop, my glance all green, lustful. This dance
is lust, is full. I, a boy bull, a fist
full of flesh, a lap full of tongue. Lewdly
we move to Bach, to Mozart, to foul Liszt.
But in Debussy's "L’Après-midi
d’un Faune," we turn the obscene to serene,
sinful to gospel. A satyr, painted
brook, a high dun sun. Somewhere in-between
the up and the down stroke, on my goat legged
legs, look! Everywhere I touch turns obscene.
Look! All of this is loud, vulgar, horrid.
