Two Poems by Mei-mei Berssenbrugge
SPRING STREET BAR
And las t ni ght a man came in
to tell her of stars and cl ouds moving fast
though the day itself had been dark and thi ck
when she tri ed to wr ite to George. a t first
without paper, whi ch wor ked fin e fr om Mercer Street
where bits of cl oth and poisonou s gas h eld letter
shapes well , but in the sheer air over hi s house
words ascended instead of enterin g th e chimney
cl earl y marked by smoke. H e was bakin g bread
with the yell ow dog n appin g bes ide him
Each word rose on an updraft th e h aw k used, too
then di ssolved among ghos ts of Indi an s and fi sh
when the po isons were
fl
ush ed down by snow
She knew about ghos ts and a lso th e haw k
they had watch ed ri se without movin g a t th e edge
of the pl ain , until it was gon e. Sh e h ad as ked
could he still see it, to h ear
yes
and wa tch
hi s blue eyes scan space. T he tra il to th e ruin
had seemed to crumbl e under h er feet. H andho lds
pocked with braill e instead of ra in wa rned her
So she took some paper and began as she used to
when there had been a sky, to write about the sky
THE TRANSLATION OF VERVER
A roan lizard writhing on a dead leaf
is th e pul se, but the fl ash of wings is unknown
as wha t the first fa ith res ts on , its colo r
and degree of translucence, or whether the cry
is a bird's or human , tho ugh th e bea t is drums
th e hue of on e fea ther, and a roos ter's dreaming
before dawn is common in our language, as qu a rrels
