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46 A Face to Meet the Faces A Medium Rehearses the Square Order Shuffle Mary Kaiser How unlikely to rotate at noon, how baffling, after pearl-headed stickpins and amber parquet, to come undone on plain oak boards, trip and snag among the saints like a dangling hook, stray eye. Bowing and twisting while the brethren drill, I mean to follow their order, but the shuffle’s hobnail thunder drives too quick through Isaac’s grate: wrist-heel-turn-away, palm-toe-back-again; fold-weep-put-away, greet-bow-kiss and turn away. Panting through this figure, spun round to face the road, I see a wonder striding in jangling beads and fringes: Sook, the Cherokee control, keeping his own time. Oh, I have turned too late; I never did believe this shuffle could be charmed. Sisters, brothers, bend me head to ankle, hands together— what mountain is like to—prod me, lead, drum me to victory or topple me now, a rocking, spun-off rim, ringing Mother, Mother, what can I do to be saved? ...

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