The obscene hostess, mincing in the hall, <br />Gathers the guests around a crystal ball. <br />It is on the whole an exciting moment; <br />Mrs. Lefevre stares with her one good eye; <br />A friendly abdomen rubs against one’s back; <br />“Interesting,” a portly man is heard to sigh. <br /> <br /> <br />A somewhat unconvincing oriental leers <br />Redundantly; into the globe he peers, <br />Mutters a word or two and stands aside. <br />The glass grows cloudy with sulphorous fumes; <br />Beads rattle, latecomers giggle near the door. <br />A scene forms in the glass; silence invades the rooms. <br /> <br /> <br />The oriental glances up, conceals surprise <br />At such immediate success. Our eyes <br />Stare at the planes that fill the swelling globe, <br />Smoke-blue; blood, shelltorn faces. Suddenly a drum <br />Begins its steady beat, pursues us even here: <br />Death, and death again, and all the wars to come.<br /><br />Weldon Kees<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-party-23/
