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8.9
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Millions were dead; everybody was innocent.
I stayed in my room. The President
Spoke of war as of a magic love potion.
My eyes were opened in astonishment.
In a mirror my face appeared to me
Like a twice-canceled postage stamp.
I lived well, but life was awful.
there were so many soldiers that day,
So many refugees crowding the roads.
Naturally, they all vanished
With a touch of the hand.
History licked the corners of its bloody mouth.
On the pay channel, a man and a woman
Were trading hungry kisses and tearing off
Each other's clothes while I looked on
With the sound off and the room dark
Except for the screen where the color
Had too much red in it, too much pink.
Charles Simic
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Read poems about / on: pink, history, mirror, magic, war, woman, red, dark, life, kiss, soldier, women
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Comments about this poem (Paradise Motel
by
Charles Simic
) |
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comments about this poem (Paradise Motel by
Charles Simic
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Bob Beers
(2/4/2009 5:33:00 PM) |
AFRAID
To email my poem to
Charles Simic, but I do.
To watch his eyes examine
a bike with broken training wheels
kid bleeding from a fall.
Too much to fathom.
But there
in Santa’s red thread
under the tree
a gift wrapped beauty
To: Bob.
Angels hover closer.
Inside the blue box is
Charlie’s gift:
a diamond sculpture
of his newest poem,
Deleted.
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Charles Simic
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