Wednesday, October 21, 2009

1 poem by Ben Lundquist

Indiana, 2006

He studied Bible at Wheaton College
He wants you to know that, son
piglips chewing cud
eyes blearing left, little girl on bicycle
studied Bible at Wheaton College,
just like your pops

Check wife like congress for right to war
right denied
smile and nod like military maneuver

Boat lilts too quick
Drag lake with a look, expecting ghosts
to pull him in
but his eyes keep blearing left
like he could turn pebbles to marbles,
send the bike skidding into algae

He hears you’re studying English
He clicks his tongue:
Son, what will my daughter live on?
beer-cooler-iced-hand kneading temples
eyes locked left, little girl in lake-ready bikini
studying English . . . say, son,
I love summer

Winks like handing over enemy papers
keep face blank
signal dead, no translator in headphones

Chicken urine gas hangs
Tyson plant chortles five miles away,
relishes juvenilia
but its floor manager is not amused
his wink has set his face into a pirate squint
his beer-cooler-iced-hand freezes to the oar

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