poetryrepairs 16,04:038

LOUIE CREW CLAY : Devilment
LOUIE CREW CLAY : Grrr. Grrr. Grrr.

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LOUIE CREW CLAY
Devilment

Dean used to fire in the gully down back every weekend. I loved to hear the rounds-- something pure, something clear when a bullet cuts through air. Sometimes I wish Dean had never gone off. Summer came dragging a woolen shawl of fire to smoke out geriatric judges in the night It is lonely now that the piano tinkles over fire creakling, and glasses echo melting ice. Nice, but lonely, with only a corpse of you, since the you of your living now cannot sprout the you of then whom I address. Your match-drawn dagger and my stick of liquid fire are the same. It's just the voiced nudge of our brains that names our difference. There is here. Then is now. Where folks glide up bubble elevators to hotel rooms that fetch $150 per night, those few who take the fire stairs might think they are back at the Y. You have waxed in my mind a red fire engine with a clever chrome smile. The Walled City continues lawless. Fire marshals and police watch at a discreet, fearful distance. I had once awakened to the house on fire while she was sitting drunk in the bathtub lighting matches to toilet paper and on another occasion had awakened to her holding a butcher knife above my head about ready to strike..

poetryrepairs #223 15,04:038





LOUIE CREW CLAY
Grrr.  Grrr.  Grrr.

It's simple arithmetic. 70*70 equal 4,900. I am now at 4,890. Only 10 to go and I will be scot-free whatever action I take against him.. I'll have God's imprimatur; none's more secure than that. Meanwhile, it's easier and easier to wait. I've even picked my ventilator in case he forces me to become a bag lady. Nothing will stop me now. Only 10 more times. Delicious! Shhhh! He's arriving outside this very minute. 4,891. It gets better and better. "Welcome to my home, sir. It is good to see you!"

poetryrepairs #223 15,04:038





LOUIE CREW CLAY
Questions for the Questioner


Natives sometimes shock new arrivals
with questions they ask without qualms:

   In Alabama, "What church do you belong to?"
   In Wisconsin, "Did you know that we lead the world
     not only in beer but also in brandy consumption?"
   In California, "Where do you surf?"
   In London, "I say there, would it be too much of a bother
     if you might be able to tell me the time?"
   In Peking, "How much money do you make?"
   In Hong Kong, "How many square feet do you have?"

People flee narrow quarters for spirit, mind, or body
as best they can, I reckon; but I do not choose
to develop the skill which lets me look long
into the distance to see nothing.



   




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REPAIR: resort, frequent or habitual going; concourse or confluence of people at or in a place; making one's way; to go, betake oneself, to arrive; return to a place; to dwell; to recover, heal, or cure; to renew; to fix to original condition. -- Oxford English Dictionary


read more poetry

LOUIE CREW CLAY. “Devilment” repairs to a collage of various pieces of devilment from many different poems that I have written.

LOUIE CREW CLAY. “Grrr, Grr, Grrr” circuitously repairs to Jesus’ answer when asked how many times one must forgive someone. This narrator takes Jesus’ answer literally, and counts down mumbling much as Browning’s narrator did in “Soliloquy in a Spanish Cloister.”

LOUIE CREW CLAY. “Questions...” explores cultural differences in phatic questions asked of foreigners.


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