Printer Friendly

May Day.

On May Day
a friend says he is about to become homeless.
He is distressed and needs help.
His problem is he can't live
anywhere near people.
At night he becomes two people.
In the loudest possible voice,
one self cross-examines the other.
The interrogation is electric.
Done harshly, with pomp and ceremony.
You would think Joan of Arc was on trial.
(<i>He</i> would say Jeanne d'Arc.)
And he does it every night.
Neighbors hear through the walls.
They complain.
At first he's recalcitrant.
He feels he's the victim of recriminations.

He's given notice.
He feels defenseless.
He can't make the fervent appeal that he feels.
There's nothing to fortify him
against the impending disaster.
Someone suggested he go to the cemetery
to do his cross-examination.
The dead can't hear.
Creatures of rigid formality,
they are circumspect, patient and kindly.
They tolerate just about anything--even
a man in two parts
cross-examining himself
in a voice of fire and brimstone.
COPYRIGHT 2016 Boulevard: Journal of Contemporary Writing
No portion of this article can be reproduced without the express written permission from the copyright holder.
Copyright 2016 Gale, Cengage Learning. All rights reserved.

Article Details
Printer friendly Cite/link Email Feedback
Author:Major, Clarence
Publication:Boulevard
Article Type:Poem
Date:Jun 22, 2016
Words:161
Previous Article:The Irrespective Ratios of Volcanoes Inside Your Chest.
Next Article:Sophocles in Malibu: The Getty Villa as Translation.
Topics:

Terms of use | Privacy policy | Copyright © 2020 Farlex, Inc. | Feedback | For webmasters