Five by David Henson

(Today we are pleased to run a collection of five poems by our friend David Henson. We have decided to depart from the one poem a day format, but instead of just shoving them out all together we have included images and the end result is quite nice. but always, it is the words that rule the day.–The Ed’s.)

Death Everlasting

A man rubs ointment 

on the stub

of a new arm he’s growing. 

A woman dons her levitation cloak

and goes for a ride.

Massive seawalls

gird coastal cities.

Robots do the dirty work.

Human brains braid with AI

and each other.

People live for centuries,

a boat I miss. 

Polar bears prowl 

the tropics after ice 

reclaims the earth.

The planet regreens.

The continents touch. 

A boy and girl cartwheel 

on thick grass

outside their home on Europa. 

Their descendants, 

part human, beast, mechanical,

will live on ships 

that sail deep space.

The sun burns red,

obliterates its kingdom,

my atoms chasing space and time.

The universe turns cold

or crunch.

So many things that will be,

and my death will survive them all.

(end)

The Man Who Quit Trying To Understand

My new approach 

begins during a movie

when I ask myself

Why did the guy with the beard do that? 

Who is the guy with the beard? 

I find the film more enjoyable 

when I accept

there’s a guy with a beard,

and he did what he did. 

My mindset expands

to everything and everyone. 

What do they think they’re doing?

Don’t care.

How could anyone believe that?

Who knows.

Are these people for real? 

Apparently. 

Friends caution me 

ignorance is no way 

to go through life.

Without my asking why,

they give me reasons.

I nod.

(end)

Jack’s Song

This here’s a little ditty

‘bout Jack, a fellow with wings.

Adriane has none,

but does have a big ol’ gun.

She tries to rob the bank

where Jack works nine to five.

When he pushes the hidden button,

cops swarm like bees at a hive.

Adriane’s trapped 

and makes a hostage of Jack.

The standoff goes days,

puts Jack in a Stockholm haze.

He visits his new dearest 

in her prison for the unwinged,

leaves his wife, sweet Betty Lou—

a flyer, born like Jack.

His feathers itch like crazy

when apart from Adriane,

who one day admits

she’s fallen for a woman named Pam.

Jack hatches a plan,

and gets his wings removed,

shoots a guy and gets locked up

with his darling Adriane.

Jack woos Adriane away 

from that hated Pam

and plans a fairy tale life

with Adriane in the slam.

But Pam goes all If I can’t have her,

no one else can

and shivs poor Adriane in the shower

where she bleeds out down the drain.

Oh yeah, Jack’s shattered,

but life goes on,

and he starts regretting 

his leaving sweet Betty Lou.

Jack knows she’ll shun a man 

bound to ground like him 

so he tells the warden he wants 

to be winged again.

The warden says Jack, make Big Shirley 

confess the murder we could never pin,

and we’ll sew some wings 

back on you again.

Well, Jack charms himself

into Big Shirley’s arms,

and when she says Don’t stop, 

he does—until she says I did.

Jack’s re-winged and transferred

to a flyer’s cage,

writes Betty Lou: Please visit.

We’ll flutter as best we can.

But Betty Lou is soaring

with another fellow by then.

Oh yeah, life goes on

So Jack spends the rest of his

flying alone

in a pen.

(end)

Splinters

Dreams splintered 

in my father’s hand.

Those just under

the calluses.

he needled to the surface,

drew between his teeth,

spat out. 

Those worked deep 

into his palms,

he ignored,

carried to the factory 

thirty-eight years. 

(end)

(image of Da Blues, who likes a good poem)

Mary’s Lullaby

Mary arrives at the human 

resource center workshop, 

announces she’s pregnant 

and high-fives Big Bob. 

They roar with laughter. 

I contact the nurse, 

who takes Mary 

to the center’s clinic. 

When they return, 

Mary goes to her station. 

The nurse confirms 

Mary’s pregnancy — shocking, 

he says in hushed tones, 

because she’d undergone 

a somewhat voluntary procedure. 

When I ask what 

he means by “somewhat voluntary,”

he turns heel and hurries away. 

I can’t help staring at Mary. 

She notices me, 

makes several pelvic thrusts, 

rocks cradle arms, 

and begins singing. 

(end)

All poems by David Henson

(images all taken in the Charleston District of Bremerton, WA)

Bound and Gagged by David Henson

Evelyn sprays the dining room table. As she starts to polish the oak, she hears a footfall behind her and whirls around. “Oh…Jack, please don’t sneak up on me.”

“Sorry, Evie. A beautiful Saturday is calling. Go for a walk?”

Walk. The word jars Evelyn back to that night, waiting in front of her building.

Jack, if U can’t pick me up will walk to station, take train

Hold tight, Evie, won’t be much longer

Evelyn squeezes the cloth. “This morning? Outside? You should’ve given me a little more notice, Jack.”

Her husband’s shoulders slump. “Okay, I just thought…maybe break the ice, and you could see Dr. Philips in person this week. I think it’s time.” He puts his arms around his wife. “Pwease?”

Evelyn freezes. “Not yet.” She twists away. “Need to get this done.” She turns back to the table.

“I’ll scramble some eggs.”

As Evelyn continues polishing, she notices what appears to be a smudge and gives the area an extra spritz.

“Can you come make toast?”

A few minutes later, Evelyn is in the breakfast nook. “Bon appétit,” Jack says, setting down two plates of scrambled eggs and toast.

Evelyn forces a smile and stares at her food.

“Please, you have to eat.” He taps her plate with his fork. “It’s over, Evie. He’s behind bars.”

She begins picking at her food.

“Have you heard from Ms. Walsh lately?” Jack says.

“She called yesterday. Said they all miss me and not to worry about my job. The other accountants are covering and…” The image of the man forcing Evelyn into his van flashes through her mind. “Let’s not talk about it, okay?”

Jack presses his napkin to his lips. “You’ll feel better when you get back to work.”

where R U, Jack?

important meeting almost over

forget it walking to train

Evelyn squeezes her fork until her knuckles whiten.

#

The next morning, after Jack leaves for work, Evelyn notices an area she missed when cleaning the dining room table. She polishes the area until she can see her reflection. Again her mouth seems blurred. When she leans closer, an image comes into view. It’s her seated at a dining room table, bound and gagged. Evelyn jumps back, inches forward, and sees the image again. She gasps and charges out the front door. When she notices the cool concrete under her bare feet, she begins to hyperventilate, hurries back inside, and up to the bedroom.

Lying in bed, she tells herself to get a grip. After a few minutes, she wedges the bedroom door with the chair from her makeup stand. She thinks about calling Jack, but decides against it.

Evelyn spends the day in the bedroom, pacing, staring out the window, reading…When it’s about time for Jack to get home, she listens for the garage door. Upon hearing it, she opens the bedroom door, and lies back down with an open book on her stomach.

“There you are.”

“What…oh, Jack. Is it that time already? Guess I fell asleep. More important meetings today?”

Jack frowns. “Let me change clothes. Then I’ll make spaghetti.”

“No, you’ve done enough.” Evelyn starts for the bedroom door, then stops. “I’ll wait for you.”

#

The next morning before the alarm sounds, Evelyn creeps downstairs and approaches the dining room table as if it were a monster she’s trying to not awaken. She holds her breath, leans close, sees the horrifying image of herself, and screams.

Evelyn and Jack nearly collide on the stairs. He leads her back upstairs and retrieves a baseball bat from under the bed. When Evelyn calms herself enough to tell him what she saw, he puts the bat away and insists that the two of them go check the table.

“See?” she says, standing behind her husband.

“I see you’ve done a good job polishing.”

Evelyn describes to Jack what to look for.

“Sorry, Honey. I just don’t see it.” His eyes well with tears. “Oh, Evie. If you’d only waited for me.”

Evelyn hurries back upstairs.

#

Evelyn lies prone on the bed. Jack stops massaging her shoulders. “Let’s do a little experiment. Go into the living room,” he says. “I’ll be right there.”

A moment later, Jack joins his wife in the living room; he has the furniture spray and a cloth. He goes to the coffee table, removes a porcelain goose and a Canals of Amsterdam picture book then polishes the tabletop. “If I’m right, you won’t see that image.”

Evelyn looks into the shiny surface, sees herself bound and gagged, and screams.

Jack steps back. “I don’t understand. Was there a coffee table where he…kept you?”

Evelyn shudders. “I’d rather not…I don’t…I just remember that big table…and…his breath. He was always chewing lemon rinds, and his breath reeked of them and…” She sinks to the floor.

Jack helps his wife to her feet. “I think I’ve got it. That table where you were—did it smell like this?” His hands trembling, Jack puts the bottle of furniture polish to Evelyn’s nose.

“What? I don’t know. I—”

“Think, Evie. I’m on to something here.” He spritzes polish on his wife’s wrist and pushes it toward her face. “Smell that and—”

“Get away from me.” Evelyn pushes Jack away, runs outside, closes her eyes, and breathes in the scent of fresh cut grass. and breathes in fresh cut grass until the lemon polish thins out, until her lungs feel like they belong to her again.

David Henson