After the Fall: Poems Old and New

A View of Jersey

AView of Jersey 1 Notes from a Slave Ship It is necessary to wait until the boss’s eyes are on you, Then simply put your work aside, Slip a fresh piece of paper into the typewriter, And start to write a poem. Let their eyes boggle at your impudence; The time for a poem is the moment of assertion, The moment when you say, I exist, Nobody can buy my time absolutely. Nobody can buy me even if I say, Yes, I sell. There I am sailing down the river, Quite happy about the view of the passing towns, When I find that I have jumped overboard. There is always a long swim to freedom. The worst of it is the terrible exhaustion Alone in the water in the darkness, The shore a fading memory and the direction lost. 2 A Bill to My Father I am typing up bills for a firm to be sent to their clients. It occurs to me that firms are sending bills to my father Who has that way an identity I do not often realize. He is a person who buys, owes, and pays, 62 Not papa like he is to me. His creditors reproach him for not paying on time With a bill marked “Please Remit.” I reproach him for never having shown his love for me But only his disapproval. He has a debt to me too, Although I have long since ceased asking him to come across; He does not know how and so I do without it. But in this impersonal world of business He can be communicated with: With absolute assurance of being paid The boss writes “Send me my money” And my father sends it. 3 The Telephone My happiness depends on an electric appliance And I do not mind giving it so much credit With life in this city being what it is Each person separated from friends By a tangle of subways and buses Yes my telephone is my joy It tells me that I am in the world and wanted It rings and I am alerted to love or gossip I go comb my hair which begins to sparkle Without it I was like a bear in a cave Drowsing through a shadowy winter It rings and spring has come I stretch and amble out into the sunshine Hungry again as I pick up the receiver For the human voice and the good news of friends 63 4 The Statue of Liberty All the ships are sailing away without me. Day after day I hear their horns announcing To the wage earners at their desks That it is too late to get aboard. They steam out of the harbor With the statue of a French woman waving them good-bye Who used to be excellent to welcome people with But is better lately for departures. The French gave her to us as a reminder Of their slogan and our creed Which hasn’t done much good Because we have turned a perfectly good wilderness Into a place nice to visit but not to live in. Forever a prisoner in the harbor On her star-shaped island of gray stones She has turned moldy looking and shapeless, And her bronze drapery stands oddly into the wind. From this prison-like island I watch the ships sailing away without me Disappearing one by one, day after day, Into the unamerican distance, And in my belly is one sentence: Set Freedom Free, As the years fasten me into place and attitude, Hand upraised and face into the wind That no longer brings tears to my eyes. 64 ...