I saw him dance Swan Lake.
He was utterly thrilling
because he was humble.
Standing with heels together,
as if waiting for Icarus to move out of the way.
It was not enough for him to fly through air–
air was a poor canvas for what he did.
He took your heart in his hands and said, look what God wants from us–
he wants joy. He wants us to feel his joy.
If I were to write a home repair manual for poetry,
I would put those words into Baryshnikov’s mouth
and ask you to believe that you stand in his incomparable satin shoes.