the antler men
(for donald gabino padilla)

1.
its evening, the sun is growing old.
grown men, thirty of them,
dance down the street.
they are dancing towards me.
they are in their daily clothes,
in workshirts and suits,
in button-downs and flannels,
in lines, five across,
in lines six rows deep.

and they are all holding deer antlers
up to their heads,
deer antlers,
four point, six point racks,
all dancing,
silently dancing,
their heads bobbing left and right,
all dancing towards me.

they are holding antlers to their heads,
they are dancing right towards me.

2.
there are prayers that no one else can sing.
there are prayers that no one else can know.
i am not worried about finding my way
back thru the woods this winter.
i live alone in this farm house now
because i can.

dougie padilla