AMERICAN FANTASY IN THE PARENTHESES (…) OF A SONG

 It is strange birth, this writing of a poem.  Usually the first line appears, in this case "All the rapist's children," and the work proceeds from there.  Often there's a direct link to a situation, or a reading, but in this case there's not.   However, this has been a week of vetting a Supreme Court Justice nominee, rife with allegations of sexual abuse, the machinations of power politics, outrage amped up to epic proportion, and unceasing media coverage, so the poem is informed. More often, though, it's like sighting a quark - blip/gone.  I generally build a poem from the first line, and the work is to blend words emanating from depth/intuition/inspiration into a conscious construction.

This poem came, as said, from that first line, and then in images and chunks, with a song floating through, and then shifts and adjustments that may not make sense to anyone but me (and even then, less sense than sensibility.)  Finally, a title in which I try to remove the mystery from what follows.

And, I am totally fascinated that all proceeds from a, literally, dark place, located somewhere in a gelatinous three pounds of meat between my ears...

AMERICAN FANTASY IN THE PARENTHESES (…) OF A SONG

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child.

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child.

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child

A long way from home

All the rapist’s

children

stand around

his bed

There will be no

words of wisdom

No pathetic last requests

Not even death will forgive him

and so he’ll return

Sometimes I feel like there’s no one there

Sometimes I feel like there’s no one there

Sometimes I feel like there’s no one there

A long way from home

Conception is in the darkness of the body

Gestation is life at 5 a.m.

The doctor with too much to do

and something he’s trying to remember

drops his forceps

Let ‘em lay, he says

and kicks them

under the table

His nurse is calm

and holds out another set

Fuck it, he says

waving her hands away

He pulls his mask down

spins on his heels

and boom boom whack a doom

shuffles his booties and booty

out of the room

The nurse is calm

delivers the child

no forceps necessary

I’m going to run, I’m going to run

I’m going to run to the city of refuge

A long way from my home.

RW

Seattle

Columbia City PCC

10.4.2018