withtinyelectriceyes
turningonandoffandon.
Theriverbreathesinsalt
andbreathesitoutagain,
andallissweetnessthere
inthedeep,enchantedsilt.
Whenthemoonburnswhite
andtherivermakesthatsound
likeaprimuspumpeduphigh—
thatfast,highwhispering
likeahundredpeopleatonce—
I’llbetherebelow,
astheturtlerattlehisses
andthecoralgivesthesign,
travellingfastasawish,
withmymagiccloakoffish
swervingasIswerve,
followingtheveins,
theriver’slong,longveins,
tofindthepureelixirs.
Godfathersandcousins,
yourcanoesareovermyhead;
Ihearyourvoicestalking.
Youcanpeerdownanddown
ordredgetheriverbottom
butnever,nevercatchme.
Whenthemoonshinesandtheriver
liesacrosstheearth
andsucksitlikeachild,
thenIwillgotowork
togetyouhealthandmoney.
TheDolphinsingledmeout;
Luandinhasecondedit.
TwelfthMorning;orWhatYouWill
Likeafirstcoatofwhitewashwhenit’swet,
thethingraymistletseverythingshowthrough:
theblackboyBalthazár,afence,ahorse,
afounderedhouse,
—cementandraftersstickingfromadune.
(TheCompanypassesoffthesewhitebutshopworn
dunesaslawns.)“Shipwreck,”wesay;perhaps
thisisahousewreck.
Thesea’soffsomewhere,doingnothing.Listen.
Anexpelledbreath.Andfaint,faint,faint
(orareyouhearingthings),thesandpipers’
heart-brokencries.
Thefence,three-strand,barbed-wire,allpurerust,
threedottedlines,comesforwardhopefully
acrossthelots;thinksbetterofit;turns
asortofcorner…
Don’taskthebigwhitehorse, Areyousupposed
tobeinsidethefenceorout? He’sstill
asleep.Evenawake,heprobably
remainsindoubt.
He’sbiggerthanthehouse.Theforceof
personality,orisperspectivedozing?
Apewter-coloredhorse,anancientmixture,
tin,lead,andsilver,
hegleamsabit.Butthefour-galloncan
approachingontheheadofBalthazár
keepsflashingthattheworld’sapearl, andI
Iam
itshighlight! Youcanhearthewaternow,
inside,slap-slapping.Balthazárissinging.
“Today’smyAnniversary,”hesings,
“theDayofKings.”
CaboFrio
TheBurglarofBabylon
OnthefairgreenhillsofRio
Theregrowsafearfulstain:
ThepoorwhocometoRio
Andcan’tgohomeagain.
Onthehillsamillionpeople,
Amillionsparrows,nest,
Likeaconfusedmigration
That’shadtolightandrest,
Buildingitsnests,orhouses,
Outofnothingatall,orair.
You’dthinkabreathwouldendthem,
Theyperchsolightlythere.
Buttheyclingandspreadlikelichen,
Andthepeoplecomeandcome.
There’sonehillcalledtheChicken,
AndonecalledCatacomb;
There’sthehillofKerosene,
AndthehilloftheSkeleton,
ThehillofAstonishment,
AndthehillofBabylon.
Micuçú*wasaburglarandkiller,
Anenemyofsociety.
Hehadescapedthreetimes
Fromtheworstpenitentiary.
Theydon’tknowhowmanyhemurdered
(Thoughtheysayheneverraped),
Andhewoundedtwopolicemen
Thislasttimeheescaped.
Theysaid,“He’llgotohisauntie,
Whoraisedhimlikeason.
Shehasalittledrinkshop
OnthehillofBabylon.”
Hedidgostraighttohisauntie,
Andhedrankafinalbeer.
Hetoldher,“Thesoldiersarecoming,
AndI’vegottodisappear.
“Ninetyyearstheygaveme.
Whowantstolivethatlong?
I’llsettleforninetyhours,
OnthehillofBabylon.
“Don’ttellanyoneyousawme.
I’llrunaslongasIcan.
Youweregoodtome,andIloveyou,
ButI’madoomedman.”
Goingout,hemeta mulata
Carryingwateronherhead.
“Ifyousayyousawme,daughter,
You’rejustasgoodasdead.”
Therearecavesupthere,andhideouts,
Andanoldfort,fallingdown.
TheyusedtowatchforFrenchmen
FromthehillofBabylon.
Belowhimwastheocean.
Itreachedfarupthesky,
Flatasawall,andonit
Werefreighterspassingby,
Orclimbingthewall,andclimbing
Tilleachlookedlikeafly,
Andthenfelloverandvanished;
Andheknewhewasgoingtodie.
Hecouldhearthegoats baa-baa-ing,
Hecouldhearthebabiescry;
Flutteringkitesstrainedupward;
Andheknewhewasgoingtodie.
Abuzzardflappedsonearhim
Hecouldseeitsnakedneck.
Hewavedhisarmsandshouted,
“Notyet,myson,notyet!”
AnArmyhelicopter
Camenosingaroundandin.
Hecouldseetwomeninsideit,
Buttheyneverspottedhim.
Thesoldierswereallover,
Onallsidesofthehill,
Andrightagainsttheskyline
Arowofthem,smallandstill.
Childrenpeekedoutofwindows,
Andmeninthedrinkshopswore,
Andspatalittle cachaça
Atthelightcracksinthefloor.
Butthesoldierswerenervous,even
Withtommygunsinhand,
Andoneofthem,inapanic,
Shottheofficerincommand.
Hehithiminthreeplaces;
Theothershotswentwild.
Thesoldierhadhysterics
Andsobbedlikealittlechild.
Thedyingmansaid,“Finish
Thejobwecameherefor.”
HecommittedhissoultoGod
AndhissonstotheGovernor.
Theyranandgotapriest,
AndhediedinhopeofHeaven
—AmanfromPernambuco,
Theyoungestofeleven.
Theywantedtostopthesearch,
ButtheArmysaid,“No,goon,”
Sothesoldiersswarmedagain
UpthehillofBabylon.
Richpeopleinapartments
Watchedthroughbinoculars
Aslongasthedaylightlasted.
Andallnight,underthestars,
Micuçúhidinthegrasses
Orsatinalittletree,
Listeningforsounds,andstaring
Atthelighthouseoutatsea.
Andthelighthousestaredbackathim,
Tillfinallyitwasdawn.
Hewassoakedwithdew,andhungry,
Onthe
hillofBabylon.
Theyellowsunwasugly,
Likearaweggonaplate—
Slickfromthesea.Hecursedit,
Forheknewitsealedhisfate.
Hesawthelongwhitebeaches
Andpeoplegoingtoswim,
Withtowelsandbeachumbrellas,
Butthesoldierswereafterhim.
Far,farbelow,thepeople
Werelittlecoloredspots,
Andtheheadsofthoseinswimming
Werefloatingcoconuts.
Heheardthepeanutvendor
Go peep-peeponhiswhistle,
Andthemanthatsellsumbrellas
Swinginghiswatchman’srattle.
Womenwithmarketbaskets
Stoodonthecornersandtalked,
Thenwentontheirwaytomarket,
Gazingupastheywalked.
Therichwiththeirbinoculars
Werebackagain,andmany
Werestandingontherooftops,
AmongTVantennae.
Itwasearly,eightoreight-thirty.
Hesawasoldierclimb,
Lookingrightathim.Hefired,
Andmissedforthelasttime.
Hecouldhearthesoldierpanting,
Thoughhenevergotverynear.
Micuçúdashedforshelter.
Buthegotit,behindtheear.
Heheardthebabiescrying
Far,farawayinhishead,
Andthemongrelsbarkingandbarking.
ThenMicuçúwasdead.
HehadaTaurusrevolver,
Andjusttheclotheshehadon,
Withtwocontosinthepockets,
OnthehillofBabylon.
Thepoliceandthepopulace
Heavedasighofrelief,
Butbehindthecounterhisauntie
Wipedhereyesingrief.
“Wehavealwaysbeenrespected.
Myshopishonestandclean.
Ilovedhim,butfromababy
Micuçúwasalwaysmean.
“Wehavealwaysbeenrespected.
Hissisterhasajob.
Bothofusgavehimmoney.
Whydidhehavetorob?
“Iraisedhimtobehonest,
Evenhere,inBabylonslum.”
Thecustomershadanother,
Lookingseriousandglum.
Butoneofthemsaidtoanother,
Whenhegotoutsidethedoor,
“Hewasn’tmuchofaburglar,
Hegotcaughtsixtimes—ormore.”
Thismorningthelittlesoldiers
AreonBabylonhillagain;
Theirgunbarrelsandhelmets
Shineinagentlerain.
Micuçúisburiedalready.
They’reafteranothertwo,
Buttheysaytheyaren’tasdangerous
AsthepoorMicuçú.
OnthefairgreenhillsofRio
Theregrowsafearfulstain:
ThepoorwhocometoRio
Andcan’tgohomeagain.
There’sthehillofKerosene,
AndthehilloftheSkeleton,
ThehillofAstonishment,
AndthehillofBabylon.
ELSEWHERE
Manners
foraChildof1918
Mygrandfathersaidtome
aswesatonthewagonseat,
“Besuretoremembertoalways
speaktoeveryoneyoumeet.”
Wemetastrangeronfoot.
Mygrandfather’swhiptappedhishat.
“Goodday,sir.Goodday.Afineday.”
AndIsaiditandbowedwhereIsat.
Thenweovertookaboyweknew
withhisbigpetcrowonhisshoulder.
“Alwaysoffereveryonearide;
don’tforgetthatwhenyougetolder,”
mygrandfathersaid.SoWilly
climbedupwithus,butthecrow
gavea“Caw!”andflewoff.Iwasworried.
Howwouldheknowwheretogo?
Butheflewalittlewayatatime
fromfenceposttofencepost,ahead;
andwhenWillywhistledheanswered.
“Afinebird,”mygrandfathersaid,
“andhe’swellbroughtup.See,heanswers
nicelywhenhe’sspokento.
Manorbeast,that’sgoodmanners.
Besurethatyoubothalwaysdo.”
Whenautomobileswentby,
thedusthidthepeople’sfaces,
butweshouted“Goodday!Goodday!
Fineday!”atthetopofourvoices.
WhenwecametoHustlerHill,
hesaidthatthemarewastired,
soweallgotdownandwalked,
asourgoodmannersrequired.
Sestina
Septemberrainfallsonthehouse.
Inthefailinglight,theoldgrandmother
sitsinthekitchenwiththechild
besidetheLittleMarvelStove,
readingthejokesfromthealmanac,
laughingandtalkingtohidehertears.
Shethinksthatherequinoctialtears
andtherainthatbeatsontheroofofthehouse
werebothforetoldbythealmanac,
butonlyknowntoagrandmother.
Theironkettlesingsonthestove.
Shecutssomebreadandsaystothechild,
It’stimeforteanow; butthechild
iswatchingtheteakettle’ssmallhardtears
dancelikemadonthehotblackstove,
thewaytherainmustdanceonthehouse.
Tidyingup,theoldgrandmother
hangsupthecleveralmanac
onitsstring.Birdlike,thealmanac
hovershalfopenabovethechild,
hoversabovetheoldgrandmother
andherteacupfullofdarkbrowntears.
Sheshiversandsaysshethinksthehouse
feelschilly,andputsmorewoodinthestove.
Itwastobe, saystheMarvelStove.
IknowwhatIknow, saysthealmanac.
Withcrayonsthechilddrawsarigidhouse
andawindingpathway.Thenthechild
putsinamanwithbuttonsliketears
andshowsitproudlytothegrandmother.
Butsecretly,whilethegrandmother
busiesherselfaboutthestove,
thelittlemoonsfalldownliketears
frombetweenthepagesofthealmanac
intotheflowerbedthechild
hascarefullyplacedinthefrontofthehouse.
Thegrandmothersingstothemarvellousstove
andthechilddrawsanotherinscrutablehouse.
FirstDeathinNovaScotia
Inthecold,coldparlor
mymotherlaidoutArthur
beneaththechromographs:
Edward,PrinceofWales,
withPrincessAlexandra,
andKingGeorgewithQueenMary.
Belowthemonthetable
stoodastuffedloon
shotandstuffedbyUncle
Arthur,Arthur’sfather.
SinceUncleArthurfired
abulletintohim,
hehadn’tsaidaword.
Hekepthisowncounsel
onhiswhite,frozenlake,
themarble-toppedtable.
Hisbreastwasdeepandwhite,
coldandcaressable;
hiseyeswereredglass,
muchtobedesired.
“Come,”saidmymother,
“Comeandsaygood-bye
toyourlittlecousinArthur.”
Iwasliftedupandgiven
onelilyofthevalley
toputinArthur’shand.
Arthur’scoffinwas
alittlefrostedcake,
andthered-eyedlooneyedit
fromhiswhite,frozenlake.
Arthurwasverysmall.
Hewasallwhite,likeadoll
thathadn’tbeenpaintedyet.
JackFrosthadstartedtopainthim
thewayhealwayspainted
theMapleLeaf(Forever).
Hehadjustbegunonhishair,
afewredstrokes,andthen
JackFrosthaddroppedthebrush
andlefthimwhite,forever.
Thegraciousroyalcouples
werewarminredandermine;
theirfeetwerewellwrappedup
intheladies’erminetrains.
TheyinvitedArthurtobe
thesmallestpageatcourt.
ButhowcouldArthurgo,
clutchinghistinylily,
withhiseyesshutupsotight
andtheroadsdeepinsnow?
FillingStation
Oh,butitisdirty!
—thislittlefillingstation,
oil-soaked,oil-permeated
toadisturbing,over-all
blacktranslucency.
Becarefulwiththatmatch!
Fatherwearsadirty,
oil-soakedmonkeysuit
thatcutshimunderthearms,
andseveralquickandsaucy
andgreasysonsassisthim
(it’safamilyfillingstation),
allquitethoroughlydirty.
Dotheyliveinthestation?
Ithasacementporch
behindthepumps,andonit
asetofcrushedandgrease-
impregnatedwickerwork;
onthewickersofa
adirtydog,quitecomfy.
Somecomicbooksprovide
theonlynoteofcolor—
ofcertaincolor.Theylie
uponabigdimdoily
drapingataboret
(partoftheset),beside
abighirsutebegonia.
Whytheextraneousplant?
Whythetaboret?
Why,ohwhy,thedoily?
(Embroideredindaisystitch
withmarguerites,Ithink,
andheavywithgraycrochet.)
Somebodyembroideredthedoily.
Somebodywaterstheplant,
oroilsit,maybe.Somebody
arrangestherowsofcans
sothattheysoftlysay:
ESSO—SO—SO—SO
tohigh-strungautomobiles.
Somebodylovesusall.
Sunday,4A.M.
Anendlessandflooded
dreamland,lyinglow,
cross-andwheel-studded
likeatick-tack-toe.
Attheright,ancillary,
“Mary”’scloseandblue.
WhichMary?AuntMary?
TallMaryStearnsIknew?
Theoldkitchenknifebox,
fullofrustynails,