PARIS/BEIRUT

by Leslie Prosterman

A relative of Samer Huhu, who was killed in a twin bombing attack that rocked a busy shopping street in the area of Burj al-Barajneh, waves his portrait as she mourns during his funeral in the southern suburb of the capital Beirut on November 13, 2015. Lebanon mourned 44 people killed in south Beirut in a twin bombing claimed by the Islamic State group, the bloodiest such attack in years, the Red Cross also said at least 239 people were also wounded, several in critical condition. —JOSEPH EID/GETTY IMAGES via TheWorldPost, Nov. 16, 2015

all afternoon I defined massacre shambles abbatoir
then resorted to the binary
the   they did we did       the done to will do
the right the wrong    the dark the light    the lash the gun the bomb
contracted to one straight line:  
fear to rage to hate to kill to make a them that isn't me.

but by the night I was reminded
of the spaciousness
of the unclosed curve
of the infinite horizon

May we live with uncovered hearts
May that which binds our hearts be dissolved

into the widest possible compass of us


Author’s note: Thanks to John Travis for the lovingkindness meditation.


Leslie Prosterman, author of the book Snapshots and Dances (Garden District Press, 2011) and other poems in various journals and collections, recently collaborated with composer Charley Gerard to set her poem FluteBone Song to music, now out on CD (Songs of Love and Passion).  A former academic, she is also a sometime student of trapeze.

HOW FAR IS AMERICA FROM HERE ?

by Howard Winn

Image source: Tnooz

What has happened to the sign posts,
the route numbers,
and why does the compass
seem not to work?
Has someone burned the maps,
torn up the directions,
pointed in the wrong way
while standing at the side of the road?
The noise from the speakers
seems to disguise the words
or make them into a meaningless mumble.
Who is talking?
What do they want?
It is difficult to see past that mirage
created in the Texas heat
over the road onward.
The scene appears like a cool lake,
shimmering in the sunlight,
calling for a redemptive baptism,
that turns the highway ahead
into seeming holy water.
Will we walk upon it,
following some self-defined sacred leader,
or will we find the surface
hard and black like the shadows
of the storytellers who lead us.
How far is America from here?


Howard Winn's poetry and fiction has been published recently in Dalhousie Review, Galway Review, Taj Mahal Review, Descant (Canada), Antigonish Review, Southern Humanities Review, Chaffin Review, Evansville Review, and Blueline. He has a B. A. from Vassar College and an M. A. from the Stanford University Writing Program.