by Beth Myerson-Jacobs
Champagne punch glistened
in the punchbowl
that looked like half the world
the Southern Hemisphere cut from the North
filled with lava and molten pulp
the guests sipped from their cups and discussed the news
of global warming
while the air conditioner strained and spewed
chilly, recycled air
some guests removed their sweaters
and others held them close
they could not agree whether it was too warm or too cold
as they dipped brocolli spears into hummos and babaghanoush
Conversation lagged and then heated up
as they argued truth or falsity
of alarmist claims about our plundering
and drank cup upon cup
of the pink punch now dwindled down
the punchbowl resembling
a parched reservoir during drought
outside the fiery sun
lanced poisonous reds and oranges
through the scorching window
magnifying heat and apprehension
that they could not face the truth
of the punchbowl, drained and empty
Beth Myerson-Jacobs recently retired as a speech pathologist and is studying creative writing with poet, Rochelle Ratner. Her poem, "Railroad Crossing" appeared in the November 2006 issue of Mobius Poetry. Beth lives in Brooklyn, New York with her husband, Jon and daughter, Eva.