Color (Cullen)/Atlantic City Waiter

by Countee Cullen

Atlantic City Waiter

WITH subtle poise he grips his tray
Of delicate things to eat;
Choice viands to their mouths half way,
 The ladies watch his feet

Go carving dexterous avenues
 Through sly intricacies;
Ten thousand years on jungle clues
 Alone shaped feet like these.

For him to be humble who is proud
 Needs colder artifice;
Though half his pride is disavowed,
 In vain the sacrifice.

Sheer through his acquiescent mask
 Of bland gentility,
The jungle flames like a copper cask
 Set where the sun strikes free.