NIGHT SKYE M.a.g.a.z.i.n.e
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Vidyasagar Setu
Bride of calculus, great figure reigning
as over another Diwali carnival:
traffic processes,
passes through this intoxication, this ruse, this river,
plying this bridge
illuminated with neon, illuminated with electric lamps
and fireworks,
suspended, anchor and cable, saddle and sag,
narrow of access, soaring steel
relief against a powerful nostalgia lurking at light's limits.
Festival of Light
Alley end, the hotel
rises from its garden.
At the front desk, Emily
adds lines to the ledger.
She sketches the schedule. A bridge
climbs over swift water.
A parade
crosses it: Festival of Light.
The lobbies house musty treasures.
Dinner at eight, tea by four.
Paddle fans stir stale air.
The doorman dozes, lulled
by wheels splashing in the city's gutters.
Previously published in California Quarterly
Howrah Bridge: Rabindra Setu
I drew in to Howrah Station along the river
to the city rising from the swamp.
Amid the muck and refugees, I saw a white bridge
cantilevered over the flat land and flat water,
improbable technology,
truss and girder like buttress and clerestory arch
spanning the Hooghly, thrust
into Calcutta. The bridge
is a new mathematical prayer
performed by clerks and reams of carbon paper,
clocked and numbered as if doves
fly across daily at 2:00 p.m.
Horse carts and chickens wander over its asphalt.
first published in The Salt River Review
Catherine Daly lives in Los Angeles, where she has a small technology company and
teaches online and in person at UCLA and UCLA Extension.
