Five Poems by John Yamrus

 

the reading was a flop   

 

we  

were  

up against  

a football game  

and the last nice day of the summer.  

 

hardly  

anyone showed  

 

and  

the wine  

and the cheese  

went to waste and  

the chairs were empty  

 

but the  

few of us  

that were there  

sat around in the gallery  

 

and the  

paintings on the walls  

 

spoke to us  

 

and  

taught us  

way more than  

any of my poems ever could.

he swore  

 

he  

could hear  

the heartbeats  

of tiny animals... 

 

the  

sound  

of peaches sweating. 

 

once,  

a long time ago,  

he had a name and a life  

 

and  

people  

who loved him,  

but that was all gone.  

 

and  

no matter  

what else went down,  

he'd make sure Eddie would pay.   

 

no  

matter what.

Eddie loved history  

 

he  

could  

tell you about  

any war that was  

ever fought, anywhere.  

 

he  

could even  

tell you everything  

about The War of Jenkin’s Ear  

 

(it’s real, look it up). 

 

he  

bragged  

about reading  

every translation of  

Les Misérables he could  

get his hands on, just for the parts  

 

about  

Napoleon  

and Chateaubriand  

(the writer, not the food). 

 

Eddie loved  

old rock and roll... 

 

the  

jazz piano  

of Cedar Walton... 

 

and birds. 

 

Eddie  

was one of a kind. 

 

Eddie lived  

most of his life  

on the corner of Third and Spruce  

 

where he  

pulled a wagon  

and sold pencils and hats  

to people who rarely ever stopped  

 

and  

never gave  

a shit about Les Miz  

or poor old Jenkin’s ear.

it was Tuesday, April 13th, and 

 

Marcia  

was laying  

on the couch,  

listening to Dylan,  

 

but, 

not really listening, 

because she was also reading a book, 

 

and  

the sun  

was out and 

the light coming into  

the room made her smile,  

 

especially  

when Dylan sang  

(maybe directly right at her)  

 

how does it FEEL?  

 

and  

she really  

didn’t know what to say,  

 

but  

she knew  

what he meant, anyway.

it was a lifetime later,  

 

when  

he learned  

he was called  

the Black Sheep  

 

of  

the school,  

which was something  

he already knew, but that sealed the deal, 

 

and, in  

thinking back on it, 

it probably had something  

or nothing to do with the fact that  

 

he  

couldn’t  

afford the 20 bucks  

 

or whatever it was  

 

for  

a copy of  

the year book  

 

and  

whenever he’d  

go into the school library, 

  

old  

Mrs. Albert, the librarian  

 

used to  

ask him about it  

 

and  

it bothered 

him so much  

he finally quit going in,  

 

which  

was probably  

a good thing because  

it got him reading books he  

 

couldn’t  

find in school,  

 

besides,  

he never did 

need that old yearbook, anyway.

John Yamrus - In a career spanning more than 50 years as a working writer, John Yamrus has published 40 books. He has also had more than 3,500 poems published in magazines and anthologies around the world. A number of his books and poems are taught in college and university courses. He is widely considered to be a master of minimalism and the neo-noir in modern poetry. His two most recent books are the memoir THE STREET and a volume of poetry called PRESENT TENSE. In addition, 3 of his books have been published in translation.