Author’s note: This poem is part of a series of poems I wrote based on the life of Fred Astaire, who was a complex yet sincere and caring man. In this poem, I especially wanted to show his empathy for the men who served in World War II, specifically those who had been severely wounded. He was one of a kind.
~
Mr. Astaire, I have to tell you,
in The Sky’s the Limit,
you looked as much the combat pilot
as Ingrid Bergman looked a nun
in The Bells of St. Mary’s:
we didn’t buy it.
But that’s all right.
No one ever expected you
to be a fighter, like the Duke*;
some lives are charmed to stand
above the fray and pass rebuke.
I still remember
how you rolled onto the base
in a beat up jeep,
your back bent to a fish hook
from hours in a C-54 bucket seat.
You slept on army cots like us,
endured a German air raid.
It was enough.
This was your courage:
to leap onto the bed of a legless man,
tap out your beat for the deaf,
strut your stuff for the blind and scared and insane,
face that war does the worst to men.
For some of us,
you were our only luck.
For what it’s worth, Mr. Astaire,
we gave a fuck for every
dance you danced for us.
*John Wayne (the Duke) never served in the armed forces.
William Derge
William Derge’s poems have appeared in Negative Capability, The Bridge, Artful Dodge, Bellingham Review, and many other publications. He is the winner of the $1000 2010 Knightsbridge Prize judged by Donald Hall and second place winner of the Rainmaker Award judged by Marge Piercy. He has received honorable mentions in contests sponsored by The Bridge, Sow’s Ear, and New Millennium, among others. His work has appeared in several anthologies of Washington poets: Hungry as We Are and Winners.
