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Poetry || SubmissionsTwo Poems by Jeff Green An Allegory Listen, it's that famous illusion.The Magician (let's not say what he stands for) Stands next to a tall, slender woman, In skimpy swimsuit and airy veil. "This is Life," he announces. She bows. The snaredrum rolls. The audience Suspends disbelief, buys the story. The Magician draws a red velvet sawhorse, From the wings and announces: "This is Immortality Of the Soul." It's lighter than it looks. He waves it and sets it down with flourish and bow. Life goes through the same business, With another padded sawhorse, calling out, "This is Divine Providence." Her voice is as thin and naked as she is. The audience, which doesn't stand for anything, Claps. Something Great has happened. Now the Magician takes a padded plank from the wings. To a fanfare, he balances it on his wand, Raises it overhead, then lays it on the supports. He points his wand at the plank. "This is Meaning." To a tense tango, Life reclines on Meaning. Twirling his fingers over her face like pinwheels, The Magician hypnotizes her. There she lies. He bows. We clap. Remember, in this illusion Immortality of the Soul And Divine Providence are padded sawhorses. Meaning is a plank. Life is a slender woman. The Magician is an entertainer Who makes a living by fooling people. This is an allegory. It was a fine trick. But how long can a man in black cape and top hat Stand at attention next to a rigid woman? The audience fidgets and coughs. The woman wants to scratch her nose. The Magician's feet hurt. Most of The musicians doze till a drumroll rouses us all. Perhaps he'll cut her in half now. But no, He pulls Immortality of the Soul from under her neck. The plank barely moves. Then he slides Divine Providence from beneath her ankles, Leaving Life, recumbent on Meaning, Supported by Nothing. The audience gasps. We'd misunderstood the trick. It wasn't the near-naked woman on the plank, It was the padded sawhorses. Now we have a new illusion. Is the plank holding up Life, Or will she still hover there, Pretending to be hypnotized, After the Magician pulls Meaning away, too? Birthday Poem How can I buy you a gift, When you are a gift to me? Would you like a pearl? A shipload of spices? I can wish you years of health and happiness, And wish I had absolute power to grant what I wish, Or had influence with Those that Do. And I do wish that, But selfishly -- Happy conflict of interest, For you are my good fortune: Wishing you well is wishing Myself a gift as much to me as you. I'd like to wrap myself and offer the package to you, Except you have me already, more boring Than a box of Mexican jumping beans, Less snazzy than a new bicycle. When I think (fondly) of the young woman I married, I wonder: Was she you already? Was he I? But we are still we. I feel more gratitude for that Than what I could give you. So, knowing you're dubious, still I wish us both improvement with age, Like hundred year old eggs, And increase in value, Like well-placed investments, And mutual pleasure, Like your well-tended garden, And belief in all this! Jeff Green is a writer and translator who has been living in Israel since 1973. You can write to him c/o msgreen@mscc.huji.ac.il Today's Situation
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