Cirque, Vol. 10 No. 2

Page 86



Vivienne Popperl

Asylum seekers, newly arrived in Skala village on the Greek island of Lesbos —photo in the New York Times, January 14, 2016 Friends

Nard Claar

Bruce Parker

Wine Dream The wine cup holds the wine like a hand wound around a wine cup. Reading I nod off then wake from a dream of your profile exactly your image behind my eyelids a design. The night is quiet with electric light while in my brain a celebration is going on. I am old and doze and you are fine. Before I sleep again I will hold you like wine in the cup.

Say something about ponchos: How they glitter gold. How they billow from shoulders rather than drape softly. How one hand at the neck keeps them closed. How the crinkly Mylar maintains body heat. Say something about eyes: How they are somber, exhausted. How children’s eyes smile. How women’s eyes stare, guarded. How men’s eyes watch, shaded by eyebrows pulled together into a frown. Say something about hairclips: Two red plastic bows hold back a small girl’s dark curly bangs. Were they the last small treasures she grabbed, heart beating, as she ran? Say something about landscape: How boulders provide support for the women. How the ground welcomes children’s damp feet. How trees offer shade, a windbreak. Say something about weather: Clouds loom over the shore. Sunlight throws shadows. A chilly wind rises at nightfall, rustles the gold ponchos. Say something about cardamom and cloves: How, stuffed into pockets of a black robe, they hold the scents and hopes of home.

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