{"id":637,"date":"2019-10-14T18:44:21","date_gmt":"2019-10-14T18:44:21","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/noellesickels.com\/wp\/?p=637"},"modified":"2019-10-14T18:44:35","modified_gmt":"2019-10-14T18:44:35","slug":"poem-of-the-month-cusp-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/noellesickels.com\/wp\/?p=637","title":{"rendered":"Poem of the Month: Cusp"},"content":{"rendered":"

My high school boyfriend
\n<\/span>put one in my hand once
\n<\/span>insisting I hold it
\n<\/span>though the weight of it frightened me
\n<\/span>the heavy unfamiliarity
\n<\/span>its grave, manly shape<\/span><\/p>\n

He slid it from the glove compartment
\n<\/span>while he was driving
\n<\/span>pressed it to my palm
\n<\/span>like it was some crude Braille
\n<\/span>of who he was or could be
\n<\/span>of what I had to learn<\/span><\/p>\n

He said it wasn\u2019t loaded
\n<\/span>but that I should point it down
\n<\/span>A gun demands respect<\/i>, he said
\n<\/span>annoyed at my timidity
\n<\/span>accepting it at last
\n<\/span>as close enough to awe<\/span><\/p>\n

He collected rifles
\n<\/span>kept them clean and trenchant
\n<\/span>racked above the couch
\n<\/span>where every afternoon
\n<\/span>we lay clothed and grinding
\n<\/span>blissful, gun-shy virgins<\/span><\/p>\n

He and his twin brother
\n<\/span>never used their rifles
\n<\/span>except for hunting rats
\n<\/span>in the swamp behind their house
\n<\/span>exploding them
\n<\/span>with guns meant for elephants<\/span><\/p>\n

The twins were volunteers
\n<\/span>to an ambulance corps
\n<\/span>where they watched porno flicks
\n<\/span>while they waited
\n<\/span>for the smell of blood
\n<\/span>to call for them<\/span><\/p>\n

Blue movies<\/i>, he called them
\n<\/span>making them sound pretty and mysterious
\n<\/span>instead of clumsy sex watched
\n<\/span>in a cold garage
\n<\/span>by boys and men in white slacks
\n<\/span>like new communicants<\/span><\/p>\n

I haven\u2019t held one since
\n<\/span>that suburban Sunday drive
\n<\/span>the boy is long gone, too
\n<\/span>shed like all virginity
\n<\/span>in gambled, profligate leaps
\n<\/span>pointed with regret<\/span><\/p>\n

Someone said he went to jail
\n<\/span>for a daughter who sold drugs
\n<\/span>from his house filled with guns
\n<\/span>protected against intruders
\n<\/span>who might inch through proper fences
\n<\/span>with precise desires<\/span><\/p>\n

I wonder if, in prison, there was talk
\n<\/span>of blue movies, blood, guns
\n<\/span>like hieroglyphic resum\u00e9s
\n<\/span>or if the men saved such tailored dreams
\n<\/span>for women they hoped were waiting
\n<\/span>to decipher them<\/span><\/p>\n

I once loved a boy who loved guns
\n<\/span>who bought me a sheer white nightgown
\n<\/span>I slept in alone at another house
\n<\/span>who lay a pistol in my hand
\n<\/span>a token weathercock
\n<\/span>for the coming winds<\/span><\/p>\n

This version of \u201cCusp\u201d was published in the journal Earth\u2019s Daughters<\/i>, Buffalo, NY, 2006.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

CUSP as a pantoum<\/b><\/span><\/p>\n

My high school boyfriend
\n<\/span>put one in my hand once
\n<\/span>insisting I hold it
\n<\/span>though the weight of it frightened me.<\/span><\/p>\n

He put it in my hand
\n<\/span>its grave, manly shape,
\n<\/span>the weight of it, frightened me
\n<\/span>the crude Braille of who he could be.<\/span><\/p>\n

Its grave, manly shape
\n<\/span>pointed down, as he commanded
\n<\/span>like crude Braille of who he was and could be
\n<\/span>of what lessons I had to learn.<\/span><\/p>\n

Pointed down, as he commanded,
\n<\/span>A gun demands respect, <\/i>he said
\n<\/span>a lesson I had to learn
\n<\/span>like alphabet or catechism.<\/span><\/p>\n

A gun demands respect, <\/i>he said
\n<\/span>taking the homage of my fear
\n<\/span>like alphabet or catechism
\n<\/span>loaded, but undeciphered.<\/span><\/p>\n

Taking the homage of my fear
\n<\/span>he put the gun away again
\n<\/span>loaded, but undeciphered
\n<\/span>like a treasure held in pawn.<\/span><\/p>\n

He put the gun away again
\n<\/span>and raised my hand to his mouth
\n<\/span>like a treasure held in pawn
\n<\/span>his eyes a soft question.<\/span><\/p>\n

He raised my hand to his mouth
\n<\/span>then it was time to go
\n<\/span>his eyes a soft question
\n<\/span>neither of us would say.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then it was time to go
\n<\/span>home to my sister and mother
\n<\/span>neither of us would say
\n<\/span>there had been any change.<\/span><\/p>\n

Home with my sister and mother
\n<\/span>I stared in the mirror to see
\n<\/span>if there had been any change
\n<\/span>in the person behind my face.<\/span><\/p>\n

I stared in the mirror to see
\n<\/span>insisting I hold it
\n<\/span>the person behind my face
\n<\/span>my high school boyfriend.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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