Sunday, September 24, 2006
by taxi to St. Bart's
a found poem
Swami Bua is a hundred and seventeen
He can blow a conch for eight straight days
One note
One breath
[One] hundred and ninety four hours
His apartment is the one
With the sign on the door that reads:
To Ring Well
Please Press Well
The Bottom Bell
His face brings to mind
The knob on an old walking stick
And an ancient Yosemite Sam
(The guest was
To take the Swami to St. Bart’s
Where he was to issue the call to prayer
By blowing on his conch)
In the taxi he began to tell
Unintelligible stories
About wrestling Ethiopian Sheep
[The driver] was Haitian
Listening to Christian radio
As the Jesus talk gave way
To a brass processional
The Swami produce[d] the conch
It was tipped with silver at both ends
He began to blow.
The sound of the conch
Joined the brass
And the sirens in the street
The driver spun around, beaming
When the ride was over
He said to the Swami:
We will meet again
Found in « Swami » by Nick Paumgarten in this week's New Yorker Magazine.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Love the photo. love the poem.
hey thanks, Lola. :)
Post a Comment