MAGNIFIED

We're all connected by a speckled whale bone,
a salesman or a sharp flint arrowhead.
Marooned on this island Earth,
unaware of Planet X.
Whoever you are: confess that none of
your ancestors ever crossed the land mass.

Nitric acid poured on her face, a woman rushes
to the bathroom, listening 'til the water
becomes a casual conversation, then she prays.
Days later the stars reappear and she says,
Thank God I can still see this
beautiful world.

Apart from our shrinking entertainment
dollar it is still a wondrous universe.
The familiar language of cool grass uncoils.
Ants drowning in a navy blue mug of ginger ale.
Already this crazy morning I've brought
out two bowls of food for the stray cat.
Lesser gods traverse the sky, airbrushed clouds.
If only the breeze would tell
us where we came from.

THE HAT

I touched it, the hat...
He's already turned down five thousand for it
It belonged to Field Marshall Erwin Rommel
He recited his favorite poems
Screamed out, War and Freedom
are never one act plays
His friends were sleeping all over the house
Something upset him, he threw me out of the house
and vanquished me, in effect, to the Russian front
I took one last look at the hat and left
Somewhere west of midnight, the impossible,
an accident is waiting to happen
It's a warm winter day and war just hours away
On the European Continent Patton and
his beloved men feel the tug of Spring
His tanks stuck in political mud, the battle
and small towns he watched burn
like lazy picnics--all of it bittersweet
He always played with jokers wild
Toasted our allies and called them, sons of bitches,
Wanting a shot or two at those Russkies
Surely, stateside he'd tell some crazy kids
on the run from Jersey to point their loaded
gun at him and salute the flag
With a tear in his eye he'd tell them
war was the closet thing to
a family he ever had

Vladimir Swirynsky


All poems copyright 2004 by the authors. Zine designed by Kathy Walker.