SECTION FIFTEEN
THE
POETRY PAGE
sm
COLUMN
SEVENTY-TWO, JUNE 1, 2002
(Copyright © 2002 Al Aronowitz)
#6
Esquimalt to Dockyard
slunk low in
the seat
watching the night slip by
the window
neon lights
slide their chemical fingers
across the welt under my eye
fire
my fingers
trace another bruise
along the bridge of my nose
and
all that's
missing is
12 bars of blues
hot coffee
a cigarette
(goddamn)
and this shit
will be wired tight ##
* * *
My
War Marches On
for
Muhammad Ali
This is my
time
It's all about me
It's sound
and
it's rhythm
and
I've got two
mean hands
that never get tired
of hitting
The rope
sings its song
thisisthetimethatyounevergetback
thisisthetimethatyounevergetback
thisisthetimethatyounevergetback
thisisthetimethatyounevergetback
nevergetback
nevergetback
nevergetback
nevergetback
time
breathe ##
* * *
Upp
my gloved
hands pound dead flesh
demand
answers
from a deaf
mute
punching bag
the words are
in there somewhere ##
* * *
Grandp
My
grandfather swam a lake for his
first cigarette
on a dare from one of his brothers
I can see him
standing on
the shore
jeweled water dripping
from his goose-bumped flesh
chest heaving
from exertion
laughing
around the smoke
skewered in his blue lips ##
* * *
Nothing
Son
From: cold
cruel lips
To: ears that refuse to listen
these are
words
for you
blunt
stone knives
fingers stuck
in old wounds
The truth of
everything
come home to shake the door ##
* * *
Pig
Shave
Getting
jumped in was as simple
as taking a step forward
and putting
one fist
in front of the other
smacked the
smirk right off
your homeboy's lips
saw his blood
and seven
pairs of boots
just like
mine
find their mark
Gang life
as easy as
breathing
blinking an
eye
one second I
was alone
and the next
invisible
##
* * *
Sarah
What'd you
get me for Xmas
she asks
defiant
proud
as usual
A boot in the
ass
w/ a yellow ribbon tied around it
I tell her
I love yellow
she says
and we laugh
while I
remember
a little girl
sitting in my lap
learning to read
from pictures I crudely drew
w/ her crayons on scraps of paper
swearing
contests
and mock hockey fights
in the living room
me as Probert
her as Domi
not
this girl
becoming
this woman
##
* * *
Snapshot
#1
Poitras/Gotro
- June, 1989
two boys
charge down the alley behind the Fire Hall
laughter
cutting the wind in two
soft blacktop
under the soles of their bargain bin shoes
a car door
left open on its hinge
a package of
stolen cigarettes
gripped in thin
French Canadian fingers ##
* * *
True
Story of a Charmer
Got stood up
I had it
coming
That phone
booth though -
was no match
for
40 oz's of whiskey
and a head well past
the expiration date
I left it
bleeding
static and quarters
receiver
swinging on blue veins
a dislocated
child's arm
Flicked my
cigarette to the curb
and bellied
back up to the bar ##
* * *
Requiem
Why do all
our wars
start at 2 a.m.
puff adders
seething
in the dark
angry eyes
masked
behind cigarette coals
slurps of
water
thrown in a cup from
the stack of dirties
are you
coming to bed
silence
of
course
heavy feet
stomp the
scattered cat litter flat
the fists
inside my skull
tan the hide of their drum ##
* * *
There
Is Life Beyond This Hole
I spend so
much of my time
bobbing for skulls in the grave
of my past
exposing
little
more than
still pictures
smeared with
bad blood ##
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