The dancers caused me to think
What future could there be for the word
They moved so fluently
The musicians caused me to wince
At the terrible fate of language
They thrilled so easily

In the costume of peasants the women
Offered themselves to the men
How brilliantly their tights flashed
From under the froth of lace
And the men pretended they were inflamed
As I was in reality inflamed

Perhaps all things can be told in a move
And a wrist turned is a poem
But a peasant is only a peasant
When she opens her mouth
It is then you experience the fact
That whilst her legs are excellent

She may have coarse emotions some of which
She owes to circumstances and some
Of which she employs wilfully to
Secure an advantage moving from one
To the other in the space of a sentence
Knowing this I breathed more easily

Howard Barker
“The Effect of Dancers on Poets”
Gary the Thief/Gary Upright (1987)