Anxiety in Mosaic

EVEN OUT

45 FIGHT AGAINST POVERTY When, for long-throats diseased with Gallic thirst They stopper in champagne bottles my pipe-borne sweat How much of a matador can I be Against this horned penury that charges at me Down this arena, thronged By aristocratic pro-bull spectators? When the drains still lie, unblocked That empty into the storage tanks of Switzerland How well can I take up cudgels Against this snarling and spiky-tailed privation Going berserk at me? And when, in this teeming market place, Men of goodwill And thieves with greed-spangled intent Pick even these empty pockets of mine Then, for a ghost purpose, I rise To slay this indigence-mouthed ugliness; This hunger-winged vampire bat That nightly sticks cold fangs Into my scrawny neck EVEN OUT A cashew nut tree Planted in Timbuktu Grew above the clouds And over the Atlantic Fruiting in distant lands 46 And I shall cry Over woes insubmersible in booze; Expert swimmers That catch up with me Again and again Across a Mississippi of frothing alcohol And I shall cry Till I windsurf at the beach of Malibu On a piece of broken palm nut shell Cry, Till I slalom at Christmas On skis of coconut shell, gliding Over snows amid the leftovers Of New York’s conifers An acacia tree Planted in Kaniaga Grew past the Sahara Branching out over the Mediterranean To flower in faraway lands And I shall wail Over clinging troubles refusing to be shaken off Even in the violent moves To beats of coupé–decalé I shall wail Over a cashew nut tree rooted in Timbuktu, Its foliage above the snow; I shall wail Till I sail In a boat of hollowed-out cola nut Over a Thames of foaming palm wine ...