snow, closely observed
at the drafty upstairs window
after another pointless bloodletting
with the last lights off
and my love gone off to bed alone
a modest flurry purls
beneath the lidded street light
mercury vapor lamp lit frozen gold
and silver sparks scatter into the dark
like the last legs of fireworks
descending onto the lake
poor kids from out Anderson Creek
“some natural tears they dropped, but wiped
them soon; the world was all before them . . . .”
as he tramped among the fields beyond the fences
poaching pheasants to feed the family, he first
saw her, wandering beside the rough cover of
hazelnut and nettle, crying, and raising his hand
to hail her, set aside his shotgun, and sat with her
in the shade of the only oak, where they talked a little
but mostly looked, and lightly touched their hands,
till her eyes were dry and the sun got low, when
they agreed that this would be their spot,
and after that hour they were wedded one forever
wet twenties
almost drowning
in the East Fork of the Delaware River
turns out to be a good thing
as your first and only long-feared
finally tested wholly attestative intention
is to get to her
where she clutches the trunk
of the fallen tree
that flushed the canoe
and nearly drowned you
and, despite the cold current
your leaden boots, drenched jeans
and sodden wallet
you reach her
aubade
wake again as light leaks around the blinds
stretch left leg out of narcotic dream sheets
tear the red numbered tag of another day
off the cheap red Chinatown calendar
brush your teeth and kiss your tousled wife
waking from some slender curve of sleep
fire up the truck to find coffee along the
foggy river or dawn downtown your choice
park in the empty Walmart lot and listen to
the idiot rain dance on the roof of the cab
a seagull tumbles from the light pole to
execute a pas de chat and peremptory poop
doubtless as death approaches
to tap mildly at the passenger side window
junior varsity
as after the home game win
witnessed by empty bleachers
he waited for his elder brother and
his unreliable Army surplus Jeep to show
and after an hour they had not
his sweat gone cold and the evening colder
he set out for no supper along
Military Road among the orchards
the tilting moon lit a glitter of frost in
the amputated arms of the just-pruned pears
as he jogged along to shake the chill and
his skinny after-game legs grew heavy
and just where he feared it
the baying of that redneck’s dogs
from behind his broken house
beside the irrigation canal
rose up berserk to run him down
in the middle of the road
and tear him up pretty bad before
the drunk shouted them back
to their shack and slammed the door
he got to his knees and onto his feet
ran a bit further but reconsidered as
the hurting got up on him good then, so
he sat to bleed in the forgiveness of gravel
at the shoulder of the asphalt night
above the reedy ditch loud with frog song
as he watched the idiot moon awhile
and wondered how he’d get home
A carpenter, Ted writes, paints, plays tennis with Amy Lee. His work appears in Innisfree Poetry Journal, 32 Poems, Beloit Poetry Journal, DIAGRAM, Chicago Quarterly Review, North American Review, and elsewhere.
Innisfree 42
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