Barry Seiler


Our stars wear wooden shoes.
When they date it’s always Dutch.
If you hear them clap along,
Say these are almost human
Footfalls I hear. And as they fade,
Say I wasn’t far from right.

Too often they get in Dutch.
When they walk, it’s always away
From the scenes of accidents. Theirs
Are the grand embarrassments.
Say this makes them almost human,
Almost near enough to touch.

Touch them if you can, firmly,
As a Dutch uncle might
To impress some word of advice.
And if they walk away embarrassed
Into the almost human dark,
Clap along as their footsteps fade.


Barry Seiler is the author of four volumes of poetry. His most recent book, Frozen Falls, published in 2001 by the University of Akron Press, was a finalist for the Paterson Poetry Prize. He lives in a very small town in the Catskills