Friday, 30 May 2025

Five Poems by John Zedolik

 






Mutual Agreement  

 

 

Let’s make a deal: 

 

You can descend from the pleasant moon 

when midnight arrives and stay to chat until six. 

 

I will brave this graveyard shift under the veil of sleep’s 

heavy urging—meet you halfway—or as much as I can 

since my feet can hardly leave the earth that tugs  

 

upon even gossamer, which you are not even of— 

 

just a skein of dropping memory to touch and dissolve 

through my skin and cells without a loss of lifting up, up 

at any time— 

 

but only at the dawn, if you agree—mother— 

 

to visit in these hours unmeant to be sensed 

as present in a breathing body whose blind sight 

should be set on dreams, which your dip back here is, 

 

but waking, as I will be lucid, I guarantee, my part 

of the bargain, as we both breach the possible, 

meet on uncommon ground just for a spell— 

 

now common— 

 

conversing in the dark atoms of air that now offer passage, 

through the spirit and letter of our brief contract. 

 

 

 

 

Persistent Witness  

 

 

My attention cannot rest until the construction 

crew replaces that section of gutter bent 

 

at ninety degrees so a dowsing rod now 

in reverse pouring the excess rain onto 

 

the weedy earth from the third story even though 

the entire subdivided structure is undergoing 

 

renovation but unrenewed in its entirety 

if no fresh channel, straight and totally attached 

 

if not gleaming in crisp aluminum under the sun 

and more important clouds that will deliver 

 

the water to be directed in an innocuous 

course eventually away from the old wood 

 

of the eaves, another exception to the universal 

replacement occurring daily, weekly, elsewhere 

 

within and without, as my attention to this house 

that will not be complete though my eyes have no 

 

hands to fashion or voice to direct any drilling, 

bolting, sawing, hauling so powerless like the bend 

 

above to effect repair and completion 

beyond my hope of that perfect fit and straight line 

 

 

 

 

Natural Order 

 

 

Squirrel erects himself into cobra double curve 

in the middle of the at-this-moment deserted street, 

menacing without venom any challenger 

 

on the facing curb or rapt by some unseen charmer 

and his mesmerizing flute whose notes must dissipate 

soon into the neighbourhood air, after all only meant 

 

for these furred ears straight up at attention 

dispensing for this instant with the duty of gathering 

the looming oaks’ fruit that passing vehicles 

 

crunch to separate shell and meat, so this bushy-tail 

must stop to gather in this vacant plain while the driver 

on the perpendicular line gives ground and allows 

 

the gaze and stance without disturbance even if the alert  

capital “S” low on the surface is no legendary snake 

flattening its pharaoh-worthy head, poised to strike 

 

 

 

 

Spirit of the Lines               

 

 

The white paint marking division 

is now peeling and faint 

lacking the former concision, 

so begging for restraint 

 

Upon the part of your neighbour 

to accept “just about” 

in stride, without need to belabour 

or fume, ready to shout. 

 

After all, they are just low lines 

not stony-hearted walls 

when breached demanding fines 

and anger that appalls. 

 

 

 

 

Redemption Granted                    

 

 

I dropped the cake 

after purchasing it. 

The sweet cylinder 

hit concrete 

 

with a muffled plop 

after a drop I hadn’t 

seen, but almost felt, 

a sinking in my yeasty 

 

spirit as I realized 

my lack of care, my folly 

with the gem of confection, 

chocolate, berries, and cream 

 

meant for her rather than me, 

whose sweet tooth must have 

been tingling at the impact’s 

moment of crushed hope 

 

and layered pastry, skill and sugar 

wasted by the buyer of uncertain 

hand—until rescued by charity— 

from fallen feelings and low 

 

self-worth sharing the floor 

with said dessert—and a free 

twin to the collapsed and compressed 

treat now garbage, mush, 

 

with which I now sallied 

from the store, cradling 

cautiously as if a babe 

in my charge—of flesh or gold 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

John Zedolik - is an adjunct English professor at Chatham University and Duquesne University in Pittsburgh and has published poems in such journals as Abbey, The Bangalore Review (IND), Commonweal, FreeXpresSion (AUS), Orbis (UK), Paperplates (CAN), Poem, Poetry Salzburg Review (AUT), Transom, Writer’s Block (NED), and in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. In 2019, he published his first full-length collection, entitled Salient Points and Sharp Angles (WordTech Editions), which is available through Amazon, and in 2021 he published another collection, When the Spirit Moves Me (Wipf & Stock), which consists of spiritually themed poems and is also available through Amazon. In 2023 he published his third collection, Mother Mourning, and in 2024, he published his fourth collection, entitled The Ramifications (Wipf & Stock), which consists of five long, experimental poems. All these collections are available on Amazon. John’s iPhone is his primary poetry notebook, and he hopes his use of technology to craft this ancient art remains fruitful. 

 

 

No comments:

Post a Comment

One Poem by Deborah A. Bennett

  Diaspora walking on 16th street  the last temptation  city of angels  the red moon the red balloon  guiding me to the corner of  madison a...