By Anushka Joshi
Scott and Zelda once spent an hour
In the revolving door of a hotel-
Just another jazz age prank.
Like jumping into the fountain at Union Square.
Later the accusations
The sanatoriums
The burning to death
And the death by drowning
In endless glasses
That reflected too well.
For now the mouth of misery
Was still muzzled.
Can you imagine them
Turning and turning
Echoing the earth in its orbit
Unable to learn but always returning
To where they had been a second ago,
As if retracing their own steps,
Two detectives investigating their own footprints
As if in rehearsal for regret.
