METRO LACE

Side A

May 1

Renounce the sorrow—so oblique—

if it finds you near where you began, where

the recurring attachment to marble slabs

remakes the landscape.

At that large desk he sat upright, attuned

to a language he couldn't use—had he

abandoned it, or it him?

There are bees, to be sure, but we no longer notice them.

Each widow suggests an indifference we try to belie.

Finished with crossing plazas in the dark,

the kids escaped into the space of tomorrow

today.  I've seized legions of their kind,

sent them packing, yet they return,

and I'm reminded of a hostel near the Liffey

and the way the heat increased

with each step I took.  Oh how we loved

to ride and ride and look upon all we passed!

Can we cite our viewings as experience,

live in books till it begins to get light

and be content with those who write reviews?

Upon the promontory the general reviewed the troops,

I’ve been told, and at least one nose was shocked

by the rich odor of the salt sea mixed

with an indelicate aftershave, too flowery

for the occasion.  Again that tune,

speaking its precise diction to power.

I'm trying not to remember all of it.

There were ponies on the lawn, Shaun said,

but when I looked it was merely dogs and sticks.

The car spent much of its time at the curb

and later had its own spot, smug, accredited.

We sat inside it and listened to mix tapes

while gazing at the football stadium

and its bright lights.  And when we stand

on the Highline we suddenly realize

we're seeing New Jersey.  Dalmatians

gathered confidence in the parks, so sleekly

condescending to all the other canines.

Pitchers were steaming cold, and all night

the songs of the lost continent surged

like so many currents, contradictory,

knavish, chagrined.  Yes, castanets at times,

to accompany the piccolo and lute

and always the piano so lively, almost capering.

When I climb into the helicopter

I'll be glad to say I was here

if only for those afternoons when we met

and talked, or sat together in the Iseman

to survey the spare choreography.

There was warmth available, the more poignant

because we walked through it, bound elsewhere.

Naked men on stage

might distract from the talk

bubbling up around you, the fancy

Jacquard throw, the pouts of doormen

and dedicated rascals.  Come by

and we’ll ignite the faucet for you,

escort you to the bench in your name.

Such reliquaries, when he only wished

to be buried at sea, hugger-mugger.

But who would’ve thought, old man,

blood.  He wore the badge until

it made him feel an imposter,

saluted by comrades, isolated.

Please take back your scarf

and don’t part the seas

on my behalf again.

I want to leave you

where I found you—

your outstretched hands,

the inlaid dagger, hat

with its veil, evidence

enough to sink a ship

or toss a desk at.

Standing in the doorway, one revives that final scene,

the body swaying at the end of a rope,

the onlookers masked and united by purpose.

Tell me again how you can stand it,

using that diction that settles the question,

otherwise I'm adrift like seeds in the breeze

and this little den with its undusted shelves

makes no pretense in my favor.

Caution the stars, if you can.  Their rays are numbered.

Side B

If you come from there tell me the truth

or else I don't see how I'll remember,

Arkansas was it, Minnesota somehow?

Your gifted flights find me wanting

the combination you withheld, the wording

that would turn the coat inside out,

eclipse the pencil pushers, the cognoscenti

captious and drinking happily

on the night the seals attack.  Got fish?

How recreational this business of riding the El,

trekking past the lake, ascending the Wheel,

pausing for memory in that cold courtyard

of the university where a name shakes its chains

and refuses to march to soft regrets

so that coffee, when it comes, cheers us up

or leaves us flat, at a loss in Chinatown,

as the scroll’s unrolling reaches its end, or

near enough, daddy, catch what comfort you can,

sex is fleeting and all this youth pours out

its simple question: why is this all we know?

He apologized for forgetting to plane the beam,

and for leaving studs where a stray toe

might scrape them.  I coughed assent

but then I always do and what I wear

soaks in brine habitually.

Admit no alarm, all murder in jest

in this case made singular, and caution

returns to plague the fabricator

soon enough.  The band tuned for hours

leaving us to our own devices, devious

as they may be.  Ungowned, these sprites.

If you can ride the carousel, remind us

it's May in Maryland.  I'm hoping they'll cap it

at sixty and extend my condolences to all who come after,

for this privilege has ceased to pay its way

and now lies in wait for the fat broker

and his muscled cousin, knowing full well

who broke the bank and what restitution must come.

Have we supporters in this crisis, a stevedore

or Indian shaman, a blonde consultant

or able therapist, whoever best

returns messages before we despair,

stammers and all, after crash-landing?

Don't mention it with your mouth full,

dear heart, there isn’t room in the back

for both of us, and anyway we were just

getting to the part when clouds escape

with the cat's own tread while some

lightly caparisoned gelding whinnies.

The immigrant strives to repeal the decree,

enacting for bystanders the scene

that rarely left us dry-eyed, oft dumb.

Levees were the last adjustment to the budget.

©Donald Brown 2010/2013