Poetry Magazine, J.D. Heskin, September 2001

Poetry Magazine

J.D. Heskin

USA

WORDS TO LIVE BY

Half-buried stones are better learned
when taken up and overturned.
Words to live by, words to share--
so said the sage with a sidelong stare.

There are brown leaves now
on the trees that were green in the summer.
Words to live by, words to share--
so said the sage with a sidelong stare.

Snake chambers are the chamber loans
of those chambered in the snake's bones.
Words to live by, words to share--
so said the sage with a sidelong stare.

THE LABORER

He did it all, the labor meant for others;
he mopped the halls, and he mucked the stalls
and he scratched the master's back.
He did the work, the picking and the plowing,
with hands so chapped and a neck so black
and a back that was bent from bowing.
He did it all, the unappealing drudgery,
and he did it well (all who saw agreed),
and he did it so that others (lesser) could succeed.
And so it is with these words writ down
like a poem, dark, we dedicate his cause,
so if you think you knew him, please stand up now and pause.

MY STORY

In the beginning, I made it up:
my story, I mean.
It was so simple,
but later, when the questioning intensified,
I added the surrealistic aspects into it.
Of course, then, they didn't believe me,
but after a while,
after filling in the holes of my story,
after faking indignation about the attacks
on my credibility--things began turning around.
The questions suddenly became guarded,
were being politely asked.
Seems they weren't so sure anymore.
And strangely enough, neither was I.
But that was a long time ago.
My story is now accepted as truth.
And why not? I mean,
that's my story.