Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Lavinia Gertrude


Lavinia Gertrude

My grandma swam the English Channelwith a knife in her teeth & her sights set on Hitler
She had webs between her toes
arms like an albatross
she cut through the water like the Cutty Sark\
She was porpoised with a purpose
had Hitler on her mind
she was cruising with the currents
when her downstroke changed her life

In the middle of the night 
she saw the oceans moon burn bright 
with her swim cap under seas 
she was blinded by the light 

the knife fell out of her gaping mouth 
her mission drowned 
as she spiraled down 
into the darkest water, 
water that's barely wet 
into the deepest pocket 
into the bluest vest 

then she came to where the light met dark 
she'd been pulled to breath by Wilhelm Stark
he'd been fishing in the spot where the earths moon above sat
he liked the way the waves played with his time

he was floating from the war
too much blood too many crimes
he had left a sign "gone fishin'" 
on his Panzer tank last night

he was jawing a hard candy
like each crunch was dynamite
he tugged at his pant leg 
more than on his fishing line

when the last crunch cracked
his line went slack 
he was set to let
the tide take him back
to his homeland
1 less dose of cyanide

then a swimmer girl
from distant shores
from the corner of his eyes
made him drop his pole
drop his pill
grab life with both arms.

Lavinia Gertrude was married to William Stark for over 50 years. She lived to be 100 years old. She is my grandmother. I played minature golf with her when I was 9 and she was 90. At Nunleys, in Roosevelt Park,NY. When she was 93 she put on 3-D glasses & watched a Rolling Stones concert on MTV with me. She had webbed feet . She was beautiful and funny and she is missed. William took me fishing every summer for eels & snappers in the Long Island Sound. We always went to the same pizza place after. Best slices I've ever eaten. every time. He always had a hard candy for me. Butterscotch , from his vest pocket. He was strong and loving and he too is missed.


Duncan




I'd like to have a boy.

I'd name him Clem or Duncan.

I'd dress him in his own loose skin

& feed him through a trumpet.

I'd watch him smirk and shudder-shake

I'd listen, without trial

I'd let my Duncan orchestrate

his drunken dad's survival.

I'd like young Duncan

to be frayed

and splattered with delusion

I'd let him bake

his monkey bread

with crutons

drenched in droolings.

or better yet I'll let him loose

with a switchblade and a yearning.

I'll let young Duncan

marinate

in pools of disillusion.

I'll soak his uncut fingernails

in puddles of spilt bourbon,

and let poor Duncan

illustrate

a portrait

of his choosing.

I'd let sweet Duncan

barricade

his hopes

from my confusions.

I think I'd like to have a boy

I'll probably name him Duncan

I'll dress him in his own loose skin

and let him live his life