I saw an old girlfriend who had visited heaven.

I saw an old girlfriend who had visited heaven and  had gotten fat,

dragging around a fat kid. And what about those old greeting cards

she sent when she was slimmer. Does the grip of a person get

tighter with age? When the sun shines on me

I think it is the fingertips of a lover. My Juliet. My Jumada. My

Mycenaean bronze-lust lacking the power of speech. I wait

patiently for the ghostly codes to pull me by the back of

my shirt

to the backseat of the bus again. The tentacles of it's warmth

toss aside the several things in my hair: the sticks, the cricket,

the leaves; enjoyment and rejoice and all the things I've picked

up from my rolling in the dirt with you.

And if there is a heaven, where joy abounds along with satiety

like a Degas painting (those he did when his leg hurt), or a paradise

like those moments before a hockey fight when there will be

dancing

in a semi circle. The planets and me, imagine? St Michael, Luther

Vandross, the short singer from the "Miracles) who made those tiny marks

on the cement floor on American Bandstand, where Dick Clark

was forever tolerating

the bad with the good. "The passion of the mortal" that Sharon Olds proclaims.

We will nod our heads when another Black boy is killed by the

hands of another Black boy. We will continue to dismiss the image

of it in the same way

Dr. Leach prescribed to my auntie placebo's to replace the pain in her

diabetic leg (the one they removed above the hip) the one she said was

miraculously healed by Jesus, once and for all. We will, while in heaven,

stiffen

the dewlap, wattle of our faces and thank God it wasn't the neighbors boy.

Our boy. We will love the way the funeral director put him away

if we can still love at all. We will argue amongst the evangelicals the

right to use which bathroom yet only

if your dick is star-struck and has been removed; if your testicles were somehow

pinched by the sunrise or by the shining skin of a child who says to

the man dressed like a woman: "Are you  a woman or a man"?  And

there will be an answer in the affirmative

that Christ is still alive and living well.

Reviews

[Lyn Anderson]

From the opening line this is a killer poem. I am especially fond of the references to Dick Clark. Now, with you, never quite sure on the editing thing, because you have your own unique way of writing that transcends many rules, however its warmth does not need an apostrophe, and neither does placebos. But hey, you can leave them anyway, it's your prerogative.:)

[h d e rushin]

thank you so very much KL.....for those kind remarks....dana

[Lyn Anderson]

my pleasure. I always enjoy your work.

[Donald Meikle]

Rolling churning mirrors of life retrying to raise guilt in an old forgetful man. Good effort Dana well worth repeating

[h d e rushin]

thank you my dearest Donald......dana

[Beccy]

There is indeed a heaven and Christ is still alive; though not, I imagine, living quite as well as he was as he contemplates the myriad confusions that abound in his creation. It started well, a paradise on earth. Pure in concept, and with no inequality or suffering or injustice and not a serpent in sight. How I wish it could have stayed that way.

As always Dana, you give me great pause for thought.

Beccy.

[M. Shepherd]

A meandering scope of commentary on the fear of being black in America, a hard-to-look-at-and-acknowledge comment on the perception of black people in America (why are we ok with black boys killing black boys?) on the state of transgender rights or lack thereof (and that - whose goddamn side can we possibly choose? I was talking to some coworkers about female rape survivors and their fear of men and the importance of a "safe space" which I can't truly speak to, having never been raped, can only imagine and conjure up the right ration of compassion, but on the other hand, these men are not men anymore. It's tricky.) This is the right amount of abstract and littered with jaw dropping figurative language to drive home the point of the unfathomable nature of such topical subjects. Love this one.

[h d e rushin]

Oh my, my dearest Marcie. The comparisons you make are right on. Religion and Race makes us choose sides..And oh lord, being an American makes us choose causes. Thank you my friend for
your insight my friend......dana

[Ed Hart]

i believe i could make the same comment to every poem you post; you plow up the ground like the blades of a tractor, turning the years up to the light; there is always such potency in your phrasing as you churn the past with the present, the personal with the topical, while nothing is sacred, and all of it is just that...

heart's blood, heart's blood

[h d e rushin]

thank you Ed Hart...." even bad poetry is sincere" Oscar Wilde said. I am learning how to do this by
osmosis or by some unconscious assimilation (allthough the learning process is never a chemical reaction) where I take a little bit of Jacob, a little bit of emily, a little bit of Corset, a little bit
of emmajoy, a whole lot of ken simms, and a ton of Ed Hart. It's real hard writing with all these
folk floating around inside of you..lol//dana

[Ed Hart]

i understand what you say very well; it was Rilke more than anyone that turned me loose, and twenty years later i am free, except for these heavy weights of self...you are wonderful dana

[jacob erin-cilberto]

and Christ is within all of us, regardless of what some other judgmental folks will say.

i love the references in this...Sharon Olds, one of my favorites...great poet....and we see someone we were with, who left us for something better, and then grew fat and lazy and wow...we say mmmm

maybe i was lucky she left...and the last part of your poem dealing with the transexual thing...

are you a woman or a man? best answer, Yes...we are combinations of both, aren't we all...

I had my Juliet once...she looked just like Olivia Hussey and sounded like her...melted me...but she left for something better...oh well...

we survive it all somehow...

appreciated this much.

j.

[h d e rushin]

thank you my dear brother..... from your biggest fan.....dana