by Bill Yarrow
He shot off his big toe with a shotgun
and afterwards could never stand up straight.
His bodily balance was gone. Six months later
his judgment went. He worked for my dad
one summer. “Good looking kid,” said my mom.
That was in June. By August, he looked bombed
out. Slough troughs disfigured his face. Deep
craters of indifference had reshaped his body.
His smoky mien was goofy. By then he had quit
working at the arcade. When I saw him by the
taffy stand, still the handsome center of attention,
his feral eyes and blatant hair opposed me. My dad
always had a fondness for Raleigh's kind of loss:
the bright shell of confidence betrayed by arrogant risk.
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This poem appears in WRENCH (erbacce-press, 2009)
Great poem, Bill. Love the details - the shot off toe, the deep craters, taffy stand, and feral eyes. Wonderful sense of character and place in so few lines.
Very, very good poem, Bill. Last line brilliant. Loved it.
Fav
What Myra said. So haunting I read twice. Peace...
I like the language here, Bill: "Slough troughs disfigured his face. Deep
craters of indifference had reshaped his body.
His smoky mien was goofy."
Good writing.
+1
Fantastic.
"My dad
always had a fondness for Raleigh's kind of loss:
the bright shell of confidence betrayed by arrogant risk."
Really liked this poem, wonderful details, and I loved the ending... because it made me think about whether the son yearned to be seen that way by his father.
Nice poem.
Great opening line.
Like this a lot -- love the idea of imbalance - hinted by the opening and felt throughout the whole thing. Nice, Bill! Glad I came here today.