Monday, May 30, 2011

Enrique Souffle


They pull out the aluminum tray,
lift up the handle and CRACK!
translucent cubes of cold
to chill the young mowers of the lawn.

The ice was free on mountain tops,
hauled down to ancient Eurasian cities,
mixed with honey, fruit, saffron,
and sold for a fraction of a drachma.
What a fine treat for a hoplite going off to a summer war.

Frozen water -
isn't that rigor mortis locking
the promiscuous, bipolar (oops),
I mean dipolar, H-O-H molecules
into hexangonal crystals,
a form too sublime and
too terrible for warm-blooded life.

And what about all the little girls
with their hand-me-down skates
twirling on the frozen lake,
on the thin ice of spring?

Oksana Baiul performing
the fluttering swan routine,
her almost naked, perfect, white body
lying prone on Zamboni's sheet
waiting for the judges' rosewater,
waiting for the next ice age.


  1. Very fine poem! Can't wait to find out who wrote it.

  2. Ah, yes! The great molecule water. Promiscous, yes!What about when she crashed her Mercedes after imbibing a little too much of the grand molecule ethanol.

  3. I like this poem very much. I like how the poet takes us from the source of the ice to the erotic image of Zamboni's sheet with the swan's naked body lying prone. Very nice!!!

  4. from Mary Torregrossa: Who knew the distinctive "CRACK" of ice in a tray could trigger this visual montage of glaciers and skating rinks! This poem sounds like a story board for a visual poem at the IMAX theater.

  5. from Michelle Angelini: Several excellent vignettes about ice, seguing from summer (oh yes, I remember the ice cube trays that had the handle you had to pull up, then push down) to other images of ice, all designed to keep everyone cool in the summer.