BEATRICE'S TURN

by Michelle DeRose

Beatrice (a Portrait of Jane Morris) by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882)

If poets are the unacknowledged 

legislators of our world, then may

their list come out as a sonnet,

an epic, an elegy for their lost

childhoods. They have more cause

than Dante to assign names

to descending rings. Only in dreams

and nightmares have sinners paid,

limbs frozen in impotent angles

like bent wisps of straw, forced

to face forever through lids locked

on open how their flesh partook in fraud.

Michelle DeRose lives and writes in Grand Rapids, Michigan. She is Professor Emerita of English at Aquinas College, where she sometimes used her specialty in epic poetry in her teaching. Every new nation/kingdom/regime established in an epic is built upon or requires the destruction of another.

MY DIGS ON DISTANT ENCELADUS

by Martin Elster

A pair of scientists from the Southwest Research Institute (SwRI) were members of a James Webb Space Telescope (JWST) team that observed a towering plume of water vapor stretching over 6,000 miles — a distance comparable to that between the U.S. and Japan — erupting from the surface of Saturn’s moon, Enceladus. This notable discovery, achieved during NASA JWST’s Cycle 1, has led to Dr. Christopher Glein of SwRI being granted a Cycle 2 allocation to examine both the plume and crucial chemical compounds on the surface, in an effort to better comprehend the possible habitability of this oceanic celestial body. —SciTechDaily, July 20, 2023

With ample geothermal activity,

sparkling geysers, and waterways that flow

below a glaze of purest H2O,

Enceladus is the perfect place for me.

Throughout those rows of rage on Mercury,

during those catlike spats of spite on Venus,

even as a universe grew between us,

this speck of dust was waiting just for me.

Though much too far from the sun for vitamin D,

with monumental subterranean seas

and a balmy minus three hundred thirty degrees,

this moon’s the ideal hideaway for me.

One hundred gushing geysers feed the “E,”

the greatest of those radiant rings of Saturn

which fashion such a pleasurable pattern,

this is the quintessential moon for me.

I skate the grooves of Samarkand or ski

down Ali Baba and Aladdin, bounce

and bounce and bounce as though I weigh an ounce

here on this satellite so right for me.

Beneath the ice, an awesome panoply

of beings surely bathe. It must be so!

One way or another I will go

beneath the ice. Great exploits wait for me!

One that has risen, curled around my knee,

my house-trained and obedient caecilian

like magic turns from cyan to vermillion,

a blind and limbless thing quite fond of me.

This moon is much too minuscule to see,

although it gleams so loudly, I must wear 

my sunglasses to tolerate the glare

peculiar to this rock just right for me,

a home away from home where I am free

to shiver like a chickadee from the dearth

of warmth on a dismal dot so far from Earth.

It’s how I like it. It’s the spot for me!

The winner of the 2022 Helen Schaible International Sonnet Contest, Martin Elster comes from Hartford, CT, where he studied percussion and composition at the Hartt School of Music and performed with the Hartford Symphony Orchestra. Martin, whose poetry has been strongly influenced by his musical sensibilities, has written two books, the latest of which is Celestial Euphony (Plum White Press, 2019).