Net Light
By Arthur Sze
Poised on a bridge, streetlights
on either shore, a man puts
a saxophone to his lips, coins
in an upturned cap, and a carousel
in a piazza begins to turn:
where are the gates to paradise?
A woman leans over an outstretched
paper cup — leather workers sew
under lamps: a belt, wallet, purse —
leather dyed maroon, beige, black —
workers from Seoul, Lagos, Singapore —
a fresco on a church wall depicts
the death of a saint: a friar raises
both hands in the air — on an airplane,
a clot forms in a woman’s leg
and starts to travel toward her heart —
a string of notes riffles the water;
and, as the clot lodges, at a market
near lapping waves, men unload
sardines in a burst of argentine light.
Source: Poetry (July/August 2017)