i have ruled
for forty years,
seven in hebron
thirty-three in jerusalem.
 
i have lain under the stars
and dreamed of foreign women.
I have dreamed my legs around them,
dancing.
 
some nights,
holding them in the dream,
i would feel us
swallowed by the sky.
 
lately i have begun to bed
with virgins,
their round breasts warm
to an old man.
 
i hold my seed
still plentiful as stars.
it is not my time.
 
somewhere something is choosing.
i can feel it dancing in me,
something to do with
virgins and with stars.
 
i am grown old and full of days.
my thighs are trembling.
what will the world remember,
what matters to time,
i wonder,
the dancer or the dance?