Seville

by Imtiaz Dharker

In broad daylight, out
on the road, shameless,
flaunting their true colours
to the open air, following no code,

not nicely dressed in plastic
wrap in supermarket bins,
with proper marks and labels
to cover naked skin

not bought or sold or
paid for at beeping tills,
taken home in plastic bags,
accounted for in lists and bills,

these oranges here are flagrant,
open to the public stare,
on a tree in the generous heart
of Al Mutamid's city

fragrant,
owned by no one.

Any Fool Can Get Into An Ocean

- Jack Spicer
Any fool can get into an ocean
But it takes a Goddess
To get out of one.
What’s true of oceans is true, of course,
Of labyrinths and poems. When you start swimming
Through riptide of rhythms and the metaphor’s seaweed
You need to be a good swimmer or a born Goddess
To get back out of them
Look at the sea otters bobbing wildly
Out in the middle of the poem
They look so eager and peaceful playing out there where the
water hardly moves
You might get out through all the waves and rocks
Into the middle of the poem to touch them
But when you’ve tried the blessed water long
Enough to want to start backward
That’s when the fun starts
Unless you’re a poet or an otter or something supernatural
You’ll drown, dear. You’ll drown
Any Greek can get you into a labyrinth
But it takes a hero to get out of one
What’s true of labyrinths is true of course
Of love and memory. When you start remembering.