Don't say these dolphins leap and twist
to shake off parasites. Don't say they crash
simply to stun some anchovy or smelt,

then bolt the body down. Don't say
their triple Tsukahara's are only exuberance
of slaughter, elation at feeding

and/or sexual success, frothing over
into loops, flips, pirouettes. Don't say
this cruise-ship auctioneer fakes

taking frantic calls, jabbing a cell
phone at his helpers, snarling, “Say
the auction's started.  She's too late!” 

Don’t say his Rembrandts, Matisses,
Chagalls are prints embellished
with purple rodomontade; his quips—

“Grand larceny! Call the cops!”—
reference his fees.  Let us believe
his spirit whirls and twists and spiels

from sheer exhilaration at the greatness    
he is blessed to place in homes like ours
at prices which really are “a steal.”  
               -Charles Harper Webb
more poems:
Anne Sexton
Edgar Allan Poe
Emily Dickinson
E. E. Cummings
Henry David Thoreau
John Keats
Langston Hughes
Lascelles Abercrombie
Pablo Neruda
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Robert Frost
Sylvia Plath
William Butler Yeats
William Shakespeare
William Wordsworth