Two Poems
Inside/Outside
Gurgaon, India
Inside the glass-walled tower
morning yawns on flowered quilts.
Faucets rush clear falls
over glowing bodies.
The glass is soundproof
to the voice of a boy
who upends
a bucket of gutter water
over his head
down washboard ribs.
Forest bird songs
trill from spinning discs.
Heat thickens
staccato
cries shrill and hoarse
sirens barking dogs
choked off.
Paths of beige and orange tile
traverse the atrium
to the white-columned school’s
keyboards and modems.
Elevators rise
and descend.
Beings with bowed bones
and scabbed skin
try to climb the sheer vertical,
lay hollow bellies to the glass,
dessicate parts
cling like worn moths.
Sunset mauves darkening
silk carpets
signal the night’s
click-on of lights.
A guard with powerful hose
sluices the glass wall’s detritus
into the street.
News of the Day Pantoum
How many to count until final peace?
Morning papers print tallies by nation
Keyboards chatter of hostage release
Familiar words re-appear in translation
Morning papers print tallies by nation
A dozen today blown up on patrol
“Purity” “Cleansing” re-appear in translation
Rice Krispies swell in my breakfast bowl
Two dozen today blown up on patrol
The Times arrives in a plastic bag
Rice Krispies swell in my breakfast bowl
Newsprint smudges the shell of my egg
The Times arrives in a plastic bag
Does water mean life existed on Mars?
Newsprint smudges the shell of my egg.
Oil drills on tundra follow north stars
Does water mean life existed on Mars?
Bewildering sunspots flash strobes in the sky
Oil drills on tundra follow north stars
Diving bells flash-photo undersea night
Bewildering sunspots flash strobes in the sky
Every night I recycle newspaper
Diving bells flash-photo undersea night
Black holes swallow stars burnt to vapor
Every night I recycle all paper
Keyboards chatter of prisoner release
Black holes swallow stars burnt to vapor
One, and then one, until the final peace.
—Charlotte Mandel, West Caldwell, NJ
