"A Poem For Uncle Jackass (October 27, 1927 – August 14, 2016) Written,
Mostly, While Standing in His Hand-Carved Pirogue, a Hammer and a Bag of Nails
Hanging from My Waist, Nailing Up the Last of His Gospel Signs--All According
to Codicil" - Samuel Prestridge
They must think I’m
dancing on the water,
coming around the
bend of the river
and seeing my jerky
moonwalk
as the dead man’s
pirogue dry humps backwards.
Between blows of the
hammer, I hear them,
the party barges,
laughing, grilling ribs,
burgers, trying to
talk girls out of their swimsuits
for the sake of the
vitamin D in sunlight.
They follow the
signs to where I’m tethered,
standing in his
pirogue, hammering his last
signs to boney
cypress knees, buttress roots:
--And I will come
in hot judgment . . .
and
witness against sorcerers . . .
and against the
adulterers . . .
and against
all false swearers . . .
and against
oppressors, saith the Lord.
His hatreds were
infectious. Dead and buried,
he remains, a spasm,
a spirochete
in my brain, blood,
in my spinal column.
I live his meanness,
nailing up his signs
to watch the letters
weather,
to see them
vandalized to tatters
for firewood, spite,
souvenirs,
to listen for
shooters tuning pistols, dotting i’s,
hollowing out a’s and o’s, honoring
letters of his
law. His strictures true
my hammering—no
keening strikes, careening
nails, ricochets
that put out an eye.
His anger’s in my
knees, locked against rocking,
in my stiffening
back, arms, in my vertigo.
Samuel Prestridge is the featured reader at the Word of Mouth open mic this Wednesday, June 6, upstairs at the Globe in downtown Athens. Sign-up for open mic is at 7 pm and readings start at 8 pm.
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