By Laura Kasischke
A cold wind, later, but no rain.
A bus breathing heavily at the station.
Beggars at the gate, and the moon
like one bright horn of a white
cow up there in space. But
really, must I think about all this
a second time in this short life?
This crescent moon, like a bit
of ancient punctuation. This
pause in the transience of all things.
Up there, Ishtar in the ship
of life he’s sailing. Has
he ripped open again his sack of grain?
Spilled it all over the place?
Bubbles rising to the surface, breaking.
Beside our sharpened blades, they’ve
set down our glasses of champagne.
A joke is made. But, really, must
I hear this joke again?
Must I watch the spluttering
light of this specific flame? Must I
consider forever the permanent
transience of all things:
The bus, breathing at the station.
The beggars at the gate.
The girl I was.
Both pregnant and chaste.
The cold wind, that crescent moon.
No rain. What difference
can it possibly make, that
pain, now that not a single
anguished cry of it remains?
Really, must I grieve it all again
a second time, and why tonight
of all the nights, and just
as I’m about to raise, with the
blissful others, my
glass to the silvery, liquid
chandelier above us?
The highlights of my Tuesday were two Zoom calls, one with a friend in London who's a big Agent Carter fan so we needed to share the What If...? Captain Carter episode, the other with my usual Voyager-watching group though one person couldn't come tonight so we just talked instead of watching an episode. It was otherwise a not-outrageously-hot but very sticky day with periods of rain, though fortunately not when we wanted to walk in the afternoon.
We had Taco Tuesday for dinner, and after my group chat, we watched the season finale of Superman and Lois, which was fine though I wish the whole show had involved a bit more levity and a bit less constant threat to the family. Then we watched some baseball (good for the Nationals, not so much for the Orioles) around Miracle Workers, the Fourth of July episode, which was fine but not as much fun as "What Happens in Branchwater"! Flowers and butterflies at Glenstone: