Marcus Slease
A Gunshot Or Did Someone Drop A Broom?
New Poems From the USA
 
 

Jell-O in the fridge water wings on the counter Jon grabbed
his trunks and we visited hot springs with warm bubbles
gurgling around our toes. Back then we were students of German
blowing tschus kisses young in love with new language but we didn’t
want to let go of the iron rod and spoil our mother’s appetite
for praise every morning thee and thou and no radio except
the Mormon choir. There was a longhaired Jesus but he
wasn’t ours. Ours wore parted hair and learned to despise
flies and dwarf desires for the converging of bodies.
Every new Mormon convert said: Tried there. Done thought.
Wrong road. Turn here. Eat from the tree of life.
So many ate and ate and ended up mortgaged and married
at twenty-one with seven kids promised by thirty.
I still see some and they still wear water wings
in the hot springs and speak Elizabethan English when they want
to say something important like yeah truly it doth not become
you to entertain the mind-dog but I disobeyed
let him play in the corner with a can of peas and a wooden spoon.