Poetry

 

DESIRE-at a Juggling Convention

by Melinda Paas

 

(The end of it).

I watch Steve

pick up nine balls,

I can't count them

from my watch point,

but I know nine;

He walks to a far wall,

unconcerned;

he's not being watched;

 

When he juggles

his body defies gravity

as the mammal defies sea

 

Nine rise and fall,

in short, sporadic, spurts,

the spouting of a sleek whale;

 

He comes to me, glowing,

"Nine."

"Yes."

"You're wet."

My fingers streak across his face,

making waves in his sweat

 

I lift them to my lips,

taste his salty seas

 

His body laps against mine,

his arm anchors me,

water washes touch away;

 

(It has begun).

 

 

A Crowd Attracts Artillery

by Mary Winters

 

A juggler solicits applause,

there's nothing up in the air:

 

not like a swindle. More like a spoof.

 

The sort of trick

a rabbit would play on a child.

A hoax (sounds like something good to eat)

- what's the harm?

Piltdown Man: wasn't it fun believing?

 

A wolf dressed up as Grandma - that's worse.

 

The saying "there's safety in numbers"

- that's worse.

You think a hurricane cares?

Mowing us down at the stadium.

 

The way a numeral cheats:

there's lies, damn lies and statistics?

Casualties in a war:

that final zero "disappearing."