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Mario Susko

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A Shortcut

I woke up one night to find
an angel sitting at the foot
of my bed and holding my coat.
I came to take you with me,
he said. You've suffered enough.
It's time you have some peace.

Was it necessary for you to come,
I asked. He smiled, or so I thought,
and said, Would you like someone else?
Snapping his invisible fingers, he
turned into a reddish burly man
I met in a bar once who claimed war
was a historical necessity to clear
the air. Truth, he exclaimed, is
at that point completely irrelevant.
He raised the glass, his little
and ring finger curiously hidden.

I can be your father, the angel
said and I heard the shoes click.
His torso swayed in the air, my coat,
over his shoulders now, resembling
the wings of a giant bat. The shoes
go click-a-click, the angel chanted,
and save the owner's life, your life,
my life, in the steamy Obersturm-asturm-
and-bon-a-bann-fuhrer's office.

There suddenly was humming behind me,
and, turning, I saw camouflaged trees
advance toward me, the ghosts
dancing to the beat of his song.

Let us go, the angel said. We have
a train to catch, so we'll take
a shortcut. I looked at the mine
field ahead and then at him again.
Don't worry, my friend, he whispered
and winked, or so it seemed to me.
Nothing ever killed a man twice.

I took a deep breath and followed,
my airy legs almost waltzing.

Mario Susko taught for 13 years at the University of Sarajevo and, having been a witness and a survivor of the war in Bosnia, returned to the United States where he teaches in New York State. He has published 66 books, 22 of which are poetry, his third book in English, The Life After, appearing in 2001. His poetry has been published widely in the US and, in translation, abroad. Recently he has appeared increasingly in British magazines and he was a runner-up for this year's Forward Prize for Best Poem.

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