The Several World

Will Toedtman

• Éditeur: The Kent State University Press
• Année: 1999
• ISBN:
  9781612773544
• Sujet: Literatur
• Sous-sujet: Poesie

"Will Toedtman approaches all his subjects—from street football to Orpheus—with nothing less than full attention. His voice is distinctive, and it clearly has something to say. A steady gaze, subtle pacing, and an ear for the rhythms of both speech and tradition shape these thoughtful poems. In The Several World insight and craft come together in a seamless working whole." –Don Bogen

I

SUMMER SOLSTICE

Joe had them—twenty or so—in a mason jar

with a tuft of grass, some oak twigs, acorns, holes

punched through the brassy tin lid with a nail.

Under streetlight and advancing dusk,

we watched the big kids play a game of football,

swearing and sweating with their shirts off—big-

armed, big-chested. The dark, dense, puckered knobs

of their nipples pointed vaguely outward, bodies

couched like question marks in the rhetoric

of catch and capture.

Then: “Whatcha got there Joey,

lightning bugs?”

“They’re fireflies.”

“Fireflies. Oh.

Same fucking thing. You want to play with us?”

“No. Just watching.”

“Have a seat then, punk.”

Denny forced him onto the fireplug

then grabbed the jar and shook it in his face:

“Let’s see how the lightning bugs like that…

What? Where you going, baby? Gonna cry?”

I backed away thinking I was next,

but they ignored me, got back to their game.

“Heads up, Willie,” one called when the ball

strayed wobbling toward me on a kick so hard

it smacked my hands back when I tried to catch it.

Mike Andrews looked me in the eye. He laughed,

and—palms red and throbbing—so did I.

FIRECRACKER

It was serious. He knew I’d done it.

The gym had been completely dark, enclosed,

And as the former band director sat there,

like the inside of a giant camera;

grave and so self-satisfied behind

and then the match and then the fuse and then

a veneer desk, grilling me, delimiting

split second of an eerie flash that vanished

for the record the situation I was in

in the sound it made, loud as hell, incredible.

(and I alone, the guilty party), he farted,

A teacher must have heard the brief report

a long one, like a bunch of firecrackers

or seen us stumble into brightness, running.

strung together only softer, as if heard

What else could we do but run and laugh?

way off at a distance. I might have cracked a smile.

And the running felt like God. And the laughter ...