James Thomas on a Trip

A true, dark poem

I'm one son who learned
the hard way

strapped & belted, knocked
in time          a round,
a double jig

I'm the father, Ole Yeller
froth & spittle, wrath
a whiskey-driven Wolfman Jack

I'm the husband, call me king

tonight it's Captain Black
shoved into the corn cob pipe
or cancer slammed out of a pack

A crooked tie. I don't hold back.

         At the party, she is flirty
         in defiance
         skirts twitch & lift
         all eyelash, laughter, winks

I'll get her back
no matter what she thinks.

God damn she's gonna hit the sack
Our hotel won't tell a thing.

         Sunday morning she is silent

veins pump full
and I, at once asunder
under
God
am right on track

I make us late again for Mass.


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