Poem Hunter
Paradise Motel
(1938 / Belgrade)

Paradise Motel

Millions were dead; everybody was innocent.
I stayed in my room. The President
Spoke of war as of a magic love potion.
My eyes were opened in astonishment.
In a mirror my face appeared to me
Like a twice-canceled postage stamp.

I lived well, but life was awful.
there were so many soldiers that day,
So many refugees crowding the roads.
Naturally, they all vanished
With a touch of the hand.
History licked the corners of its bloody mouth.

On the pay channel, a man and a woman
Were trading hungry kisses and tearing off
Each other's clothes while I looked on
With the sound off and the room dark
Except for the screen where the color
Had too much red in it, too much pink.

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Comments (1)

AFRAID To email my poem to Charles Simic, but I do. To watch his eyes examine a bike with broken training wheels kid bleeding from a fall. Too much to fathom. But there in Santa’s red thread under the tree a gift wrapped beauty To: Bob. Angels hover closer. Inside the blue box is Charlie’s gift: a diamond sculpture of his newest poem, Deleted.