Manhole Covers (draft two)

1)

Across time and oceans, in America,
Karl Shapiro wrote in Sixty Eight,
‘The beauty of manhole covers—what of that?
Like medals struck by a great savage khan,
Like Mayan calendar stones, unliftable, indecipherable,’
at the University of California, to be
exact. That’s the way of his description,
‘Bitten at the edges’, ex-
act, like here in this coalmining town,
at Shanxi Normal University, to be
exact, we have learnt to shallow breathe
over the 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 drag, the town’s
one sweet musical vehicle plays
a jingle version of Auld Lang Synge,
rubbish trucked away in this music box
as the ballerina pirouettes
around and around …


3) (first draft)

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 fancy Beijing urinal
I looked up to see a framed script
in beautiful calligraphy
and in the purest ignorance
attributed Confucian thought to it.