Confessional Poem
I have this large tattoo on my chest. It is like a dream I
have while I am awake. I see it in the mirror as I shave and
brush my teeth, or when I change my shirt or make love.
What can I do? I can't remember where I got the tattoo.
When in the past did I live such a life? And the price of
having such a large tattoo removed must be completely
beyond reason. Still, the workmanship of the drawing is
excellent, a landscape 8 x 10 inches in full color, showing
cattle going downhill into a small western town. A
young man, who might have been my great-grandfather,
dressed as a cowboy and holding a rifle, stands at the
top of the hill and points down toward the town. The
caption beneath the picture reads: "Gosh, I didn't know
we were this far west."
Lake Superior
What I like best
are those rocks that
for no apparent reason
stand waist-deep
in the water and refuse
to come into shore.
You Move A Chair
You move a chair from its place in the corner
and suddenly you realize
someone had been sitting there all along.
You start to apologize.
Oh, no bother, he says and jumps up.
You are embarrassed, anxious.
He stands at the window,
hands folded behind his back,
watching the snow drift into the yard.
You can't think of anything to say.
You begin to hum in a nervous monotone.
You stand by the door.
Finally you try replacing the chair
but it's no use.
When you turn again he'll be gone.
My Feet
When I awake and look at my feet
I realize they must have waited all night,
immigrants clutching their papers,
clumsy thick-bodied peasants
still heavy with the old soil.
I think how many days they
must have stared at the ocean in dismay,
tried to cling to the pitch and roll,
no talent for swimming.
Now they stand, weary, bewildered,
still waiting, wondering which steps
to take across the snows
of this long winter
in the new world.
______________________
Louis Jenkins
Collected Poems
Will o' the Wisp Books
2023
