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The Band Leader’s Grandson Is Comatose He rolled the dice. And lost. He had just bought Baltic, Was looking ahead to Park Place and then – Maybe a railroad? His head was filled to whirling with polka fever. They waltz across the floor, Just north of town, In a beat-up old hall, Dark, and red-lit, that dance fever effect – Lenny didn’t do it, either. I mean it was dark. Who’d ‘ve thought To look for a train, especially there, On a dark night, in a storm from heaven, Especially then, you never know when, Do you? What his brain was doing that night Was swell – You remember how that goes – A gong sounds – Later, your days are daze and filmy – Upon entering the cranium (It isn’t rocket science, you’re aware of that) He sentenced that paragraph to death. So we parsed the mysterium out of it, Teased a crossword iotum, Scooped out the crimson squash, Grappled with the vascular demons, Left the bone flap in the freezer – Give it plenty of room to grow, Bring him back later, close the door. Everyone rolls ‘em now and then. What is left will not be right. Too many pieces of the puzzle sit there on the pretty blue paper under lights under-whelmed waiting for the party to start, the tuba’s oom-pah-pah the money, the Chance Card – Another day, perhaps, my son. Perhaps another day. An accordion bellows him another breath. A metronome beeps like a heart. In the silent night at his bedside the family gathers, Prays the rosary, sings a hymn to Mary. One-and a two - Without the table of contents, he can’t find the hymn. Without the dice, the little metal car, the shoe – He moves onto the Jail square and waits for doubles. |
This Poem was Critiqued By: Elaine Marie Phalen On Date: 2004-03-07 11:55:29
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Oh my ... I don't know what to say. This is beyond good. It's beyond stunning. It's as powerful a poem as I've ever read about mischance and the sudden destruction of that which makes us fully human, with goals and hopes and even hobbies (like playing games).
Use of wordplay ("was swell", for instance), vivid imagery, sustained metaphor of games of chance: they're all here. The Monopoly allusion that ends with " ... maybe a railroad?" is horrifying and prescient.
He sentenced that paragraph to death.
So we parsed the mysterium out of it,
Teased a crossword iotum,
Scooped out the crimson squash,
Grappled with the vascular demons,
Left the bone flap in the freezer –
Give it plenty of room to grow,
Bring him back later, close the door.
Who can read this and NOT mentally step backward in horror?
Who could not vote for this astonishing piece? Answer: those who have already selected one of your others and don't want to scatter the odds. Month after month, you deliver this kind of riveting material. Surely it will be THIS TIME, I keep telling myself.
Brilliant work. Find that publisher!
Brenda