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Collected Poems

Page 63

by Adrienne Rich


  4

  For recalcitrancy of attitude

  the surgeon is transferred

  to the V.A. hospitalwhere poverty

  is the administrator

  of necessity and her

  orders don’t necessarily

  get obeyed

  because

  the government

  is paying

  and the

  used-to-be

  warriors

  are patients

  5

  Faces in the mesh: defiance or disdain

  remember Paul Nizan?

  You thought you were innocent if you said

  “I love this woman and I want to live

  in accordance with my love”

  but you were beginning the revolution

  maybe so, maybe not

  look at her now

  pale lips papery flesh

  at your creased bellywrinkled sac

  look at the scars

  reality’s autographs

  along your ribs across her haunches

  look at the collarbone’s reverberant line

  how in a body can defiance

  still embrace its likeness

  6

  Not to get up and go back to the drafting table

  where failure crouches accusing

  like the math test you bluffed and flunked

  so early on

  not to drag into the window’s

  cruel and truthful lightyour blunder

  not to start over

  but to turn your back, saying

  all anyway is compromise

  impotence and collusion

  from here on I will be no part of it

  is one way could you afford it

  7

  Tonight someone will sleep in a stripped apartment

  the last domestic traces, cup and towel

  awaiting final disposal

  —has ironed his shirt for travel

  left an envelope for the cleaning woman

  on the counter under the iron

  internationalist turning toward home

  three continents to crossdocuments declarations

  searches queues

  and home no simple matter

  of hearth or harbor

  bleeding from internal wounds

  he diagnosedphysician

  without frontiers

  2002

  VII

  FIVE O’CLOCK, JANUARY 2003

  Tonight as cargoes of my young

  fellow countrymen and women are being hauled

  into positions aimed at death, positions

  they who did not will it suddenly

  have to assume

  I am thinking of Ed Azevedo

  half-awake in recovery

  if he has his arm whole

  and how much pain he must bear

  under the drugs

  On cliffs above a beach

  luxuriant in low tide after storms

  littered with driftwood hurled and piled and

  humanly arranged in fantastic

  installations and beyond

  silk-blue and onion-silver-skinned

  Jeffers’ “most glorious creature on earth”

  we passed, greeting, I saw his arm

  bandaged to the elbow

  asked and he told me: It was just

  a small cut, nothing, on the hand he’d

  washed in peroxide thinking

  that was it until the pain began

  traveling up his arm

  and then the antibiotics the splint the

  numbing drugs the sick sensation

  and this evening at five o’clock the emergency

  surgery and last summer

  the train from Czechoslovakia to Spain

  with his girl, cheap wine, bread and cheese

  room with a balcony, ocean like this

  nobody asking for pay in advance

  kindness of foreigners

  in that country, sick sensation now

  needing to sit in his brother’s truck again

  even the accident on the motorcycle

  was nothing like this

  I’ll be thinking of you at five

  this evening I said

  afterward you’ll feel better, your body

  will be clean of this poison

  I didn’t say Your war is here

  but could you have believed

  that from a small thing infection

  would crawl through the blood

  and the enormous ruffled shine

  of an ocean wouldn’t tell you.

  2003

  WAIT

  In paradise every

  the desert wind is rising

  third thought

  in hell there are no thoughts

  is of earth

  sand screams against your government

  issued tenthell’s noise

  in your nostrilscrawl

  into your ear-shell

  wrap yourself in no-thought

  waitno place for the little lyric

  wedding-ring glint the reason why

  on earth

  they never told you

  2003

  DON’T TAKE ME

  too seriouslyplease

  take the December goodness

  of my neighbors’ light-strung eaves

  take the struggle helping with the tree

  for the children’s sake

  don’t take me seriously

  on questionnaires about faith and fault

  and countryDon’t

  take me for a loner don’t take me for a foreigner don’t

  take me in the public

  library checking definitions

  of freedom in the dictionary or

  tracing satellites after curfew

  or in my Goodwill truck delivering a repaired TV

  to the house of the foil’d revolutionary

  2002

  TO HAVE WRITTEN THE TRUTH

  To have spent hours stalking the whine of an insect

  have smashed its body in blood on a door

  then lain sleepless with rage

  to have played in the ship’s orchestra crossing

  the triangle route

  dissonant arpeggios under cocktail clatter

  to have written the truth in a lightning flash

  then crushed those words in your hand

  balled-up and smoking

  when self-absolution

  easygoing pal of youth

  leans in the doorframe

  Kid, you always

  took yourself so hard!

  2003

  SCREEN DOOR

  Metallic slam on a moonless night

  A short visit and so we departed.

  A short year with many long

  days

  A long phone call with manypauses.

  It was gesture’s code

  we were used to using, we were

  awkward without it.

  Over the phone:knocking heard

  at a door in another country.

  Here it’s tonight:there tomorrow.

  A vast world we used to think small.

  That we knew everyone who mattered.

  Firefly flicker.Metallic slam.A moonless night.Too dark

  for gesture.

  But it was gesture’s code we were used to.

  Might need again.Urgent

  hold-off or beckon.

  Fierce supplication. One finger pointing: “Thither.”

  Palms flung upward: “What now?”

  Hand slicing the air or across the throat.

  A long wave to the departing.

  2003

  VIII

  Tendril

  TENDRIL

  1

  Why does the outstretched finger of home

  probe the dark hotel room like a flashlight beam

  on the traveller, half-packed, sitting on the bed

  face in hands, wishing h
er bag emptied again at home

  Why does the young security guard

  pray to keep standing watch forever, never to fly

  Why does he wish he were boarding

  as the passengers file past him into the plane

  What are they carrying in their bundles

  what vanities, superstitions, little talismans

  What have the authorities intercepted

  who will get to keep it

  2

  Half-asleep in the dimmed cabin

  she configures a gecko

  aslant the overhead bintendrils of vine

  curling up through the cabin floor

  buried here in night as in a valley

  remote from rescue

  Unfound, confounded, vain, superstitious, whatever we were

  before

  now we are still, outstretched, curled, however we were

  Unwatched the gecko, the inching of green

  through the cracks in the fused imperious shell

  3

  Dreaming a womb’s languor valleyed in death

  among fellow strangers

  she has merely slept through the night

  a nose nearby rasps, everyone in fact is breathing

  the gecko has dashed into some crevice

  of her brain, the tendrils retract

  orange juice is passed on trays

  declarations filled out in the sudden dawn

  4

  She can’t go on dreaming of mass death

  this was not to have been her métier

  she says to the mirror in the toilet

  a bad light any way you judge yourself

  and she’s judge, prosecutor, witness, perpetrator

  of her time

  ‘s conspiracies of the ignorant

  with the ruthlessShe’s the one she’s looking at

  5

  This confessional reeks of sweet antiseptic

  and besides she’s not confessing

  her mind balkscraving wild onions

  nostril-chill of eucalyptus

  that seventh sense of what’s missing

  against what’s supplied

  She walks at thirty thousand feet into the cabin

  sunrise crashing through the windows

  Cut the harping she tells herself

  You’re human, porous like all the rest

  6

  She was to have sat in a vaulted

  libraryheavy scrolls wheeled to a desk

  for sieving, sifting, translating

  all morningthen a quick lunchthick coffee

  then light descending slowly

  on earthen-colored texts

  but that’s a dream of dust

  frail are thy tentshumanity

  facing thy monologues of force

  She must have fallen asleep reading

  7

  She must have fallen asleep reading

  The woman who mopped the tiles

  is deliquescenta scarlet gel

  her ligaments and lungs

  her wrought brainher belly’s pulse

  disrupt among others mangled there

  the chief librarian the beggar

  the man with the list of questions

  the scrolls never to be translated

  and the man who wheeled the scrolls

  8

  She had wanted to find meaning in the past but the future drove

  a vagrant tank a rogue bulldozer

  rearranging the past in a blip

  coherence smashed into vestige

  not for her even the thought

  of her children’s children picking up

  one shard of tile then another laying

  blue against green seeing words

  in three scripts flowing through vines and flowers

  guessing at what it was

  the levantine debris

  Not for her but still for someone?

  2003

  TELEPHONE RINGING

  IN THE LABYRINTH

  (2004–2006)

  For Aijaz Ahmad

  and

  in memory of

  F. O. Matthiessen

  1902–1950

  Poetry isn’t easy to come by.

  You have to write it like you owe a debt to the world.

  In that way poetry is how the world comes to be in you.

  —Alan Davies

  Poetry is not self-expression, the I is a dramatic I.

  —Michael S. Harper,

  quoting Sterling A. Brown

  To which I would add: and so, unless

  otherwise indicated, is the You.

  —A.R.

  I

  VOYAGE TO THE DENOUEMENT

  A child’s hand smears a wallthe reproof is bitter

  wall contrives to lingerchild, punisher, gone in smoke

  An artisan lays on hues:lemon, saffron, gold

  stare hard before you start covering the whole room

  Inside the thigh a sweet moleon the balding

  skull an irregular islandwhat comes next

  After the burnt forestssilhouettes wade

  liquid hibiscus air

  Velvet rubs down to scrimiron utensils

  discolor unseasoned

  Secret codes of skin and hair

  go dimleft from the light too long

  Because my wish was to have things simpler

  than they werememory too became

  a smudgesediment from a hand

  repeatedly lying on the same surface

  Call it a willful optimism

  from when old ownerships unpeeledcurled out

  into the still namelessnew imperiumCall it

  haplessness of a creaturenot yet ready

  for her world-citizen’s papers

  (Across the schoolroom muralbravely

  small ships did under sail traverse great oceans)

  Rain rededicates the exhumed

  African burial ground

  traffic lashes its edges

  the city a scar a fragment floating

  on tidal dissolution

  The opal on my finger

  fiercely flashed till the hour it started to crumble

  2004

  CALIBRATIONS

  She tunes her guitar for Landstuhl

  where she will sit on beds and sing

  ballads from when Romany

  roamed Spain

  •

  A prosthetic hand calibrates perfectly

  the stem of a glass

  or how to stroke a face

  is this how far we have come

  to make love easy

  Ghost limbs go into spasm in the night

  You come back from war with the body you have

  •

  What you can’t bear

  carry endure lift

  you’ll have to drag

  it’ll come with you the ghostlimb

  the shadowblind

  echo of your body spectre of your soul

  •

  Let’s not talk yet of making love

  nor of ingenious devices

  replacing touch

  And this is not theoretical:

  A poem with calipers to hold a heart

  so it will want to go on beating

  2004

  SKELETON KEY

  In the marina an allegro creaking

  boats on the tide

  each with its own sway

  rise and fall

  acceptance and refusal

  La Barqueta, My Pelican

  barometer in the body

  rising and falling

  •

  A small wound, swallow-shaped, on my wrist

  ripped by a thorn

  exacerbated by ash and salt

  And this is how I came to be

  protector of the private

  and enemy of the personal

  •

  Then I slept, and had a dream

  No more

  No màs

/>   From now on, only

  reason’s drugged and dreamless sleep

  •

  Creeps down the rockfaceshadow cast

  from an opposite crag exactly at that moment

  you needed light on the trailThese are the shortening days

  you forgot aboutbent on your own design

  •

  Cut me a skeleton key

  to that other time, that city

  talk starting up, deals and poetry

  Tense with elation, exiles

  walking old neighborhoods

  calm journeys of streetcars

  revived boldness of cats

  locked eyes of couples

  music playing full blast again

  Exhuming the deadTheir questions

  2004

  WALLPAPER

  1

  A room papered with clippings:

  newsprint in bulging patches

  none of them mentions our names

  none from that history thenO red

  kite snarled in a cloud

  small plane melted in fog:no matter:

  I worked to keep it current

  and meaningful:a job of living I thought

 

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