SPELL

by Talvikki Ansel

It was like drinking
from a tin mug either
too hot or cold
to hold, that ticking
you hear after swallowing water
and can't stop, lower
than your throat,
like one of those black
beetles turning over,
or drowning. The secretary
never heard anything
I said, the striker ball
on the typewriter
was on backwards
and everything came out
scrambled. Things used to fit
their shapes. Smoked eels
and sandwiches were wrapped
in waxed paper, squares
of lye and bacon-fat soap
were too strong
for the dog to want to steal.
Off-shore, you could locate
the island by smell
from the wild olive blooming.
On shore you could
locate the mackerel schooling
just by standing there
breathing,
I took a journey.
When the train stopped,
the lights went out
and they added more
dining cars. A man kept
saying: You can always buy
another green sweater--
to his companion, smiling,
caught between the glass
and the fields unreeling.