One Might Notice

(after reading Gary Snyder's poem Night Herons)

that Marilyn Monroe sits on her heels in
dark shorts on Hollywood bed-meaning
no headboard-in black and white poster

largest on wall in Premont Main St. Cafe'
which somehow hangs on

has old piano missing most strings needed
for even simplest progressive chords
but even so somebody plays Cielito Lindo,

that James Dean sits on hood of 52 Chevy
(best guess) with a smoke and a listen
to almost-funny joke, maybe the photographer's

while west on the wall past glass bricks' light
Marilyn still lifts her golden locks, hoping even he
(or maybe we) will at last have time
to take loveliness seriously.

Sylvia Manning
Winter 2002

Faust and the Succubus

They came to terms: a contract duly signed
To sate desire, this compact exceeds
He would be hers, to cherish, kiss and bind
A gift of love for him where she succeeds

Like moonlit nightshades, their power growing
Each night she spends the money in his purse
Gnostic communion between them flowing
To eat this fruit: a blessing or a curse?

On each Saint's day the same verse to recite
Hunger will not quell, glory without end
Gorged with Midas-gold, surfeit of delight
But this they agreed to, sealed with a pen.

Bound to a rock, their vows felicitate,
Can they unlock such knowledge they create?

George Leake April 2002