A Warhol Memento

 

 

 

A Warhol Memento

 

 

i was a man at eleven

wise beyond my years,

knew and understood love

like memorizing easy history lessons

in my 4th grade class with Sister Knuckles

of ruler fame, her kingdom

an old, old classroom on the rickety second floor

of a decrepit building at St. Joes

where we studied reflections in the puddles

to look up the skirts of girls we sought to

de-virgin-ize

or

homogenize

or

realize

 

 

our rote was necessary

since groping alone

seemed the tedious task

of a catchall stock to fantasize

but then

 

i turned 21 and 31 and 41 and 20 years later

i became a boy

knowledge condensed

into aluminum alumni

like a Campbell's

product aging on a shelf

 

my adolescence returning with the silver hairs

that mingled upon my head like the shadowed thoughts

playing hide and seek in my once lucid mind

and heart,

and Sister-Knuckles

counting her rosary beads into retirement

a fond memory

out of those few i recall

in my hazy reservoir

of smiles

reflecting

from those same puddles

the same skirts

the untouched old maids

who closed their legs

against the swills

of

 

the young demons

of the devil-may-care roustabout

being led by the hand

down a church aisle, mother by his side

 

wondering where she had gone wrong

and surmising the wrinkles

on the face of a child

no one was willing to spend $1.39

 

to bring home.

 

 

erin-cilberto

Reviews

[D. Mansfield]

Loved this poem, and can relate. I'm working my way thru my teenage years right now

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I appreciate you liking it...I know it is a bit too long.

[Desert Knave]

Love it. The "de-virgin-ize" / homogenize / realize line stands out as it re-emphasizes just the thing that was everything to the young "man". Kudos. ~Jim

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you, Jim.
j.

[Chris Shaw]

Oh the Sister Knuckles of this world, not just for naughty boys but girls too. God forbid if a young girl became pregnant, the wrath of the church cast on her sinful body and that of an innocent baby too. And this is one of the reasons I turned my back on organized religion. Some of it is hateful, no compassion shown at all. Punishment, punishment and more punishment and I see it all the time. My friend Claire has no fond memories of the nuns at her boarding school. Dear j, your poem opens up a road map of many destinations for discussion. Boys will be boys and education plays a huge part, not the drumming in of the fear of God. So much incorporated in this write my friend.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your kind review, Chris.
j.

[Lorry]

Well Jacob, if this doesn't explain completely how opposite we are from women then nothing will.
A man before puberty, because we knew everything worth knowing in our arrogant youth, only to become a boy in later life, because life wasn't as fair as we had imagined and because we bloody well could!
Coincidentally we had a nurse who was also a penguin called sister knuckles at our school, whom i had the misfortune to meet only once, when I was taken to her literally kicking and screaming when I got tenny-balled in the eye. (Tenny-ball was a game of soccer played with a tennis ball because we weren't allowed proper footballs in the playground, due mainly to 99 % of the buildings surface being made entirely of glass, which had the required torture of baking us while trying to remember what quadratic equations where. And yes you heard right. Even in Scotland things grow if locked in a greenhouse all day!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for sharing, Lorry.
j.