- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Broken Villanelle
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Boss said I don't have to know any Spanish,
just had to drive them to Allentown.
María finished her tunafish sandwich.
José who never could speak any language
made only noise and hardly heard sound.
No, I didn't have to know any Spanish.
White coat assistants brought an outlandish
gurney that turned him into a pronoun
assisted with living, Chrissakes, to languish
here like the slag heaps from iron that span this
section of Pennsy scat dirty brown.
Shit! He's gonna be bedsores in diapers.
The tears of María I don't think will vanish
back home in Philly, nor will they until
a year from now when her welfare will manage
a full day's taxi and tunafish sandwich
Goddammit, Goddammit in Allentown!
- COMMENTS
Cleardaynowover 9 years agoI like this best of your recent poems. Overall it is clear (though I am left in some uncertainty whether Jose is a several disabled son or a husband with advanced Alzheimer’s or stroke) and the colloquialism does counterpoint with the fundamental poignancy of the situation. Very nice indeed.
ishtatover 9 years agoOne of your best. Avoiding excessive expression of emotion more effective than overdoing it. Let the facts/situation speak for themselves.
twelveooneover 9 years agothe poem is top notch, what you are doing with the end line rhyme is very tricky, understated, off.
And this description:
..to languish
here like ...(simile)...
section of Pennsy scat dirty brown.
Again, interesting to put it in a simile, which is a weaker but more truthful position.
5ed
