Stewart Brisby
Poet/Writer


 

 

 

AN OLD ENEMY LEAVING TOWN
for ronnie
tonight i returned & found you gone
your death spoken casually
on tongues of survivors who live
where home is closed til 2 a.m.
& mothers keep children
from polluted water.

they say you
drank yourself to sleep with
A CAPFUL FOR THE DEAD
& THE FELLAS UPSTATE
a toast to asphalt children
crossing the east river drive
to dance dark green water
at river's edge
in spite of undertow warnings
& because of them.

once after scars had healed
i heard you speak proudly
of our violence
& knew you were alone

we deserved much better for you than this.

warm summerwine settles
in dust between cracks
that once threatened
to break our mothers' backs
& wolverines who dwell the pavement
flock to me now with palm & tarot readings
offering full pardon for felonies
we've forgotten.

& they will never understand
why we liked dancing so near
the edge of that dark green water
on the east side of harlem.




Stewart Brisby
(from A Death In America © 1986)


 

(Bio/Books)

(Poems)