Countdown

C o u n t d o w n

Sometimes the line between civilization and chaos seems so weak! As if for one long moment that might last indefinitely Strip mall parking lots are nearly full, With steady lines at fast-food drive-thrus, And everyone going about his or her business In a manner that’s neither more nor less functional Than it usually is, and seems will always be so, But for a white cop who presses his knee into a black man’s neck, Grinding his face into the pavement until he can’t breathe. By nightfall, the city’s on fire, a police precinct torched, Protesters smashing windows, looting, Molotov Cocktails, curfews, National Guard troops in riot gear, An angry mob that won’t disperse despite pepper spray, Billy clubs, rubber bullets, tear gas, flash grenades.

Sometimes the line between civilization and catastrophe seems so thin! As if we’re always mere seconds away from a passenger Jet flying into a tower of the World Trade Center, Shatter and burst of the initial fireball—what was that? Jet fuel’s thunderous black smoke, melting steel, human beings Trapped above deciding whether to jump or burn. Or an interstate bridge about to collapse During rush hour in Minneapolis, A condominium in Miami That crushes half its occupants, The next Three Mile Island Or Chernobyl.

If only the line between civilization and chaos weren’t so thin! I might hold out more hope, I might put more faith in technology, Engineers, elevators, automobiles, satellites, fiber optic cable— All the appliances and gadgets that make life easier. I might not shudder when filament of an incandescent Light bulb suddenly flickers and pops, I might worship the miracle of the Smart Phone in my hand, That I can connect with anyone, anywhere in the world, Summon an infinite web of information, news, Knowledge, ideas, essays, great works of art— But it’s useless without an outlet, a charger Cord as its battery dwindles and conks out.

And sometimes a symbol of civilization explodes so unexpectedly! I remember the faces of my classmates, How faces in the crowd gathered to witness the launch—

Happy, smiling, cheerful, beaming— Like one mask of the theatre As we all chant in unison the thrilling Countdown Five! Four! Three! Two! One! That lifts the space shuttle off its pad— I remember how all our faces drop At once into a tragic frown As Challenger hurtling forever Heavenward yet already flaming Too much like a comet Suddenly bursts— How the blast plumes outward Then hangs suspended as it molts Raised and jointed pinchers From its triangular head Into an evil-looking praying mantis, Protean as it swiftly morphs Into a monstrous science fiction Creature yearning to die in the sea, Giant cephalopod, squid, octopus, Finally a lifeless slowly falling jellyfish While the CNN camera follows a single Limp tenacle spewing earthward Gravity’s suction cup of white smoke— Our teacher after switching off the special live broadcast Turns around to face us With a pained grimace, distraught, her grief Stricken face a silent stream of tears.

If only the line between civilization and oblivion weren’t so thin! I might be optimistic, even as one country invades another, Bombs its civilians, maternity wards, children’s hospitals. I might be optimistic if there was ever a weapon, a gun, Big or small, primitive as a spear, complex as a missile, That we ever made, that we have not used. A trigger is designed to be pulled, A fateful button, secret codes Someone’s desperate, vengeful, Or indifferent finger will eventually punch.