Here to Help
Death of Epstein
No human script
on the doors, height wrong,
a prevailing blueness. But only
a few variations are possible
on ceiling panels and industrial
carpeting. I heard my steps; I sensed,
from both sides, my presence. Adopted an air
of belonging, confidence, even of
command. One way or another,
the time had passed for doctor, lawyer,
shrink, headmaster, IRS, the tenure
or central committee. This is neither
the time nor the place, I thought;
and for once the phrase seemed nice.
No need to describe them – cowled,
reptilian? Desks are universal,
and, doubtless, office passions kept
from the public. I signed, they or it
signed, here, here, and here. The only
question was whether, beyond the blinds,
lay incalculable when? or where?
Brain and penis – why shouldn’t these be
preserved? How (to quote a bold man)
did such language become offensive?
Wasn’t there long ago
on the eve of our greatness, a proud World’s Fair
whose symbols they were? The orb of Mind,
the arrow of Will … And why should I not
from a Fortress of Solitude people the earth
with my genes? Any real man wants to be a father,
surpassed, long after death, by handsome sons.
The scientists I befriended (after deductions
they cost nothing) agreed;
in under a minute I saw what each was saying.
The wealthy and powerful, their masters, my peers
and tools, know that the whims of men like us
are those of God. And enjoyed
the lace-wrapped gifts I sent to their rooms –
prospective mothers of the coming race.
Now, through a phone brought to this cell
by a frightened but reliably silent flunky,
they’re asking me to take one for the team.
Suspicion will pass to that woman
who is (justly!) the habitation of all guilt.
Like my great and one-time friend, now friend again,
I spurn those thousands of pages,
the attentions of the small and weak.
The sheet (I had no sheet) is neatly folded;
my vibrant, sometimes feisty angels
attend me, becoming flies.
Frederick Pollack is the author of two book-length narrative poems, The Adventure and Happiness (Story Line Press), and two collections, A Poverty of Words (Prolific Press, 2015) and Landscape With Mutant (Smokestack Books, UK, 2018). Many other poems in print and online journals.
