Crossing Bryant Park Susan Robertson (1943 –1997)

by Hugh Seidman

Rink down — up last fall mirroring summer.
1200 steps to work — Seventh to Madison.

First, past 50 — your bridal two step.
New, wet grass invoking tomb.

o

Father: suicide; Mother: survivor; Sister: fatal breast.
Tai chi fighter, shrink, scholarship Bryn Mawr waif.

Lungs sicker than said or known.
Small talk — then you were gone.

o

10,000 years ago: not statue, urn, stone.
10,000 years ago: sexual proof of lives.

Left you that August — who shall say why ?
Hammocked dozer; oil – slick lake rainbow.

o

10,000 years ago: hope — oldest karma.
10,000 years ago: friends — forever.

Also — noduled, cut out womb.
Transfusion, perhaps, the future tumor root.

o

High – heeled graduates’ pale lilies, arterial roses.
Memoir of the body — 10,000 years ago.

Heard your name, as if called.
Neurons that will not be annulled.

Nothing to do but abhor the wind.
Implored the immortals for solace.

Obscene Brigitte: vulva peppers, black rooster.
Red – tongued Kali: lei of heads, corpse trampler.

o

Reached at last — furnace blast.
A few pounds of dust, ash, bone.

Carbon tundra turning under suns.
Born to your planet — less than a grass pebble.