Manhole Covers / draft three

‘The beauty of manhole covers—what of that?
Like medals struck by a great savage khan,
Like Mayan calendar stones, unliftable, indecipherable,’
Karl Shapiro, Manhole Covers (1968)


1)

‘Bitten at the edges’, Shapiro said, ex-
act, like here in this coalmining town,
Shanxi Normal University campus to be
exact, where we have learnt to shallow breathe
over manholes in the broad pathways
where god-knows-what passes underground
and perfumes the sulphuric air as
slim ladies in stylish spangled jeans go
riding by, two to a bike, one pedalling, one
balancing lightly on the carrier, like
corps de ballet ballerinas at a rubbish tip.
Those are particles in the air that offend
rising from exotic embossed shields
of ancient khan warriors, the ex-
acts of history nothing to
the attack on us
today.


2)

Down Linfen’s main street, the town’s
one sweet musical vehicle plays
a jingle version of Auld Lang Syne,
rubbish trucked away in this music box
as the ballerina pirouettes
around and around …


3)

Walking back from shopping,
my wife and I stare at the manhole covers,
guessing what the characters say.
There is often beauty in ignorance,
like in a five-star Beijing urinal
I looked up to see a framed script
in beautiful calligraphy
and in the purest ignorance
attributed Confucian thought to it.