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UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY - 10/2011
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STEVEN GULVEZAN Mongrel Dogs Prevail “Read your poetry at this place, Fifty dollars,” Mr. Blue said, Sipping his chocolate martini, ‘It will be like taking candy from a baby” “I don’t know – Do old people like poetry?” “What do you care?” Mr. Blue smiled, The large blue diamond Implanted in his right front incisor Twinkling so brightly I arrived At the appointed hour And an attendant Led me to the dining hall Where a hard chair Had been placed In a corner between two walls The elderly and ailing Were yanked Away from their televisions And assembled In a tight circle About me I beheld wheelchairs and death Smelled the stench of endless boredom Saw what God allows to happen To honest men and women And was appalled Hands trembling With uncertainty I read Selections from my chapbook Mongrel Dogs Prevail And glanced hopefully Into the vacant eyes Of the aged and infirm An old man raised his bowed head Sufficiently to peer Deep into my eyes “You call that poetry?” He said with surprising gusto For someone so withered with age They all laughed at me I bowed my head And could not stop My tears from flowing “Take us away from this clown,” An ancient old woman proclaimed, “We are missing the latest installment Of Judge Judy’s courtroom drama” And so the old people cried out For the attendants And grumbling Walked Rolled Or were wheeled Away from my humble poetic gathering The old man who had leveled The first verbal assault Looked back over his shoulder “Asshole,” he said to me The others laughed In some strange masochism That I don’t wish to explore I’m pleased that I was able to bring Some merriment into the lives Of these our suffering elders But, damn you, Mr. Blue What manner of man are you To set me up this way? Steven Gulvezan tries to work a story or poem the way a good butcher works a nice piece of meat – cut out most of the fat and gristle, leave something juicy on the bone. Links to some of his writings may be found at: www.mysterywriters.org/user/607 |
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