Heroine

“Thank you for saving my life, miss.”
The hundredth hug. The hundredth smile.
I can hold my back straight for hours
and not feel tired. Atlas would be put to shame!
Holding onto a smile, now that,
takes more than superpowers.

As the human girl is gurnied away, her smile
floats up, up and away to light the clouds,
show night its way. I follow.

When I was younger, the thrill of flight
was almost addictive. I couldn’t stay put on earth.

Up here, in the stratosphere, I remain awhile.
Not as silent as space, but it will suffice.
The arc of a life held together by one crisis,
then another, gets to one after a while.
Not one notch remains on me to mark
what passed below. It has always been so.

How nice Manhattan seems from this angle!
Pinks and grays have smudged away the recent melee.

But, duty cannot wait.
To the watchtower next, patrolling the stars,
pacing the tower’s steely halls,
eyes glued to the fractal dance of the
LED-panel, each flare a call for help,
which I promptly dispatch.
“Ever here, ever vigilant,” has become my motto.

“She was always there when needed,
star-spangled tights and all. What a woman!”
The papers drool over my latest “heroic encounter.”

Great Hera!...A person couldn’t care less
about the semantic niceties of
Immortal and Indestructible,
when only an empty house marks
the end to every day.
So, instead, at shift-end I head
to Christmas Isle to catch the sun’s first ray.

Red claws scuttle over shell hash on a beach
where men may have played at being fauna.
But, no witch’s spell here for me
to compel a scratch from a shell-shard
to ripen, bloom and not wither
to a rusty shield.

The wound always closes
by the time I finish making it.

The Story of Milk

Late again for prayers today.
The cause for delay?
We’ll get to it by and by.

In the west, night and day
are lost in a purple sky.
Were it not for the stink,
I’d think it was my milky eye
Playing a trick.

China burnt a pot again last night.
(Is it so hard to boil milk?)
That bride of yours can’t do anything right
since you went away.
As if a new pot can be plucked from the trees!

(And, what a name she’s
got! In my day, girls could cook
and were named from the Holy Book,
not after countries.)

Yes, I’ve told her many a time how one boils milk.
But all I get is an arched brow!
(No one ever bothered to tell me how.)

I stand at the stove and stir.
She sits in the corner and twists her hair.
(What violated Draupadi is she
letting her hair run so free?
Can a wife of two days dare
fret more than a Mother?)
I stir and stir.

My feet have scarred the kitchen floor
as the heat has scarred my hands.
My once milk-smooth hands
never lifted a ladle until I walked through the door
of this house, followed by a menagerie.
(Did she even bring a transistor
radio as dowry? Not her.)
I headed for the kitchen.
(Oh, how bright my eyes were then!)
But enough of this reverie.
Look! I almost burnt the milk!

. . .

Frogs have begun to sing in
the pale light that sits in her corner.
I only sent her to fetch water.
I wait and wait.
She is late
again. First, the muezzin
and now her.
She’s never been this late.
Neither has he, for that matter.
Is this how wars begin?

I better go look for her.

A Conversation Overheard At The Partner’s Water Cooler

Anna can’t draft a motion.
Is she trying to get fired!
Taking lunches without sanction,
why the frack Jim, was she hired?
I need worker bees, yes, slaving
on my matters all the time.
No rest, no sleep, and yes, starving!
Bill the clients and work each dime!

Can you believe, what she was
doing last night right in front
of my eyes? She didn’t even pause
when she saw me. Arrogant
frack! Her nose was in a paper,
full of news, not legal news,
just news, about Iraq. Terror,
war are very bad excuse
for not doing her work. Partial
though I am to anti-war views,
protests suit those who are able
to have all the time to lose.

Leaving early is a habit
I cannot let fester deep
in her. I’m her mentor dammit!
She has gotta learn to sleep
less! Do you think I made partner
Tucking my kids in at night,
Every night? If she wants dinner,
first, she needs to fix this cite.
This brief can’t wait for Princess,
Harvard Law’s Best. We shall see
about that! In Law’s grave biz’ness
nobody can take breaks. Agree?

Shush! Here she comes up the hallway,
Gleaming hair, new suit, but soon
we’ll put her in her place some day.
Now, it’s still the honeymoon.
I was like her when I started.
Leaving here was always on
my mind. I was not so jaded.
I wrote poems! Seems very long
Ago. I was into cooking,
tennis, how I miss those days!
Anyway, she seems to be looking
around, always in a daze.

Hi there, Anna my dear, looking
for me? I was working all
morning. Memos needed proofing.
Now, let us prep for this call.