Post by MoonyLuna on Feb 8, 2009 11:45:47 GMT -5
The Tightrope Walker
walking across America
on telephone wires will be an important
symbol. Each night, on the living-room TV,
a quick shot of him stepping over
Scranton, Youngstown, Toledo, Joliet
(and a bit of the accompanying commentary).
Near the end, Justine will look out
the window and there he'll be—approaching
her roof—his balancing pole held out
before him like a broken mast. She'll phone
Clarence then—her words streaming
beneath the walker's feet. She'll say
something like: Who'll know if he falls
in Nebraska, or Wyoming—after the news
forgets him? Clarence's reply: Perhaps two lovers
—like us—talking across the country, will hear
a trembling in their voices,
as the quivering wire upsets the birds—
The Angels
The angels spend most of their time
on earth with their coworkers the scarecrows.
They have a lot to talk about, and of course
plenty of complaints:
most commonly, they're too light—so often
they're swept up by a passing wind.
(At least the scarecrows are posted down.)
And what are they made of?—all that
dust and straw and powdered lapis. All that
essence dries their throats. One finds
he's up all night longing for a glass of water.
A shot of Gabriel shaking his head
in the moonlight: It's not what I expected,
he says, still watching the house
across the field, where a window has filled
with the underwater light of a television.
The scarecrow shrugs on his cross—
Ain't what I expected either, he mutters
through his sewn mouth.
copyright
Wayne Miller
walking across America
on telephone wires will be an important
symbol. Each night, on the living-room TV,
a quick shot of him stepping over
Scranton, Youngstown, Toledo, Joliet
(and a bit of the accompanying commentary).
Near the end, Justine will look out
the window and there he'll be—approaching
her roof—his balancing pole held out
before him like a broken mast. She'll phone
Clarence then—her words streaming
beneath the walker's feet. She'll say
something like: Who'll know if he falls
in Nebraska, or Wyoming—after the news
forgets him? Clarence's reply: Perhaps two lovers
—like us—talking across the country, will hear
a trembling in their voices,
as the quivering wire upsets the birds—
The Angels
The angels spend most of their time
on earth with their coworkers the scarecrows.
They have a lot to talk about, and of course
plenty of complaints:
most commonly, they're too light—so often
they're swept up by a passing wind.
(At least the scarecrows are posted down.)
And what are they made of?—all that
dust and straw and powdered lapis. All that
essence dries their throats. One finds
he's up all night longing for a glass of water.
A shot of Gabriel shaking his head
in the moonlight: It's not what I expected,
he says, still watching the house
across the field, where a window has filled
with the underwater light of a television.
The scarecrow shrugs on his cross—
Ain't what I expected either, he mutters
through his sewn mouth.
copyright
Wayne Miller