A sense that something has happened
I enjoyed my time on campus, in its woods, its halls,
the poets I met were very fine,
they all said gracious things.
Every lecture & featured speaker,
each new workshop, we got to know
one another through poems.
Then the white snow began to fall.
White snow so alluring, so ordered,
dressed trees in the less mundane,
made the paths mysterious
like life lines on a palm.
Then someone keyed my car:
Fuck you in white against the navy blue,
someone keyed Fuck you—hid it in white snow,
we were all surprised.
Most of the white poets, like snow,
had floated into town together,
just them together, like in high school,
like in undergrad, like at work,
so the rest of us withdrew to the dorms,
we drank wine, we danced, a woman kissed me kindness,
I, grateful, tried to forget hate, we all wondered what to think.
My professor asked me: Do you think your car was keyed
because you're black? I couldn't know for sure.
We sensed something had happened, but not what, exactly.
The white snow returned—unyielding.
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Author's Note
This was an actual experience. Most of it is metaphor, yes, but I hope clear.
All feedback welcome. Thanks.
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Roberto, this sneaks up on you, much like the guerilla authors of anger that leave their little 'fuck you's' in places where they ought not. I used to wonder why they did that, but stopped caring, knowing, really, who they are, realizing that their self-congratulatory righteousness is not all that far removed from the angry little man in the grinning mug shot we've lately seen.
Some would not agree, but that's okay.
You've expressed this so well. It doesn't matter who, really, nor why. Nothing changes, though, does it?
A subtle, sharp and fully realized poem, Roberto, the disguises, concealments and revelations all beautifully handled.
I like this. Good use of line and phrasing:
"I was grateful, I drank more wine, we all drank
more wine, the white snow returned—unyielding"
Good piece, Roberto. Enjoyed.
I like the flow of scenery, characters, and graphic imagery; a very pleasant story, if not for the "guerilla authors of anger," conveying 'a sense that something has happened.' Excellent writing, I enjoyed reading.
This one has teeth. The occupants of Folwell Hall on my campus circa '52-'56. Robert Penn Warren was there, but he escaped. Another one jumped off a bridge. John Berryman.
Thank you everyone for your comments. This is a piece I HAD to write. It was jumping out of me.
James, at the heart of our issues it feels like things don't change but change is like nature in a lot of ways. Its changes are subtle and very slow.
Well crafted. Seems like a sweet, little poem and then implies much more. *
One of your best, Roberto.
Well done!
*
"a woman kissed me kindness"
typo?
Hi Bill, thanks for the kind words.
"Kissed me kindness" is me looking for a new verb to replace 'gave' but with emotion and some of the physical. Plus it feels good in the mouth to say, kissed me kindness.
please Roberto keep: "the woman kissed me kindness."
that line is pure poetry
lovely poem
wow, this is so lovely and true, filled with so much weight and goodness, the touch of the fuck you on the car, etc is perfection & placed so perfectly. I agree with Susan, A woman kissed me kindness.. lovely
I was most struck by the way you transcend a harsh moment--from the "fuck you in white" with the "woman kissed me kindness"--softening the blow of the hard "k". That to me was more potent than all the wine poured.I really enjoyed this. thx
Thank you Yasmin. Amazing how words, word sounds and their context can change a mood, isn't it? Oh those K's!
melancholy, amusing, finely crafted--so glad i discovered it.