I woke up yesterday sick and tired and angry and blue, so much so that even when I went searching for poems to share, I came up empty. But then sometimes the US Postal Service just plops the answer right down in your lap, doesn’t it? A Boston friend sent me a book of Pittsburgh mystery stories, and among the contributors was MV regular Terrance Hayes. Mr. Hayes teaches at CMU, and maybe he just tried his hand at short stories for fun, because he’s known as a poet. A reader recently commented that he just likes poems that rhyme, so this should satisfy anyone with a similar taste. Note that the tercets here have inter-locking rhyme as well. Is there a word for that? Isn’t this similar to the pattern Dante used in the Divine Comedy? Little help? Lotta repetition here, too. The swinging, personable rhythm throughout really lets him free up that cliche at the end, and use it to full effect. -ed.
THE BLUE TERRANCE
|If you subtract the minor losses,
you can return to your childhood too:
the blackboard chalked with crosses,the math teacher’s toe ring. You
can be the black boy not even the buck-
toothed girls took a liking to:
the match box, these bones in their funk
Thump. Everything I hold takes root.
and the lyrics asking: How long has your door
of a wedding gown before it was flung
in a busted speaker? Suppose you had to wipe
the blues will never go out of fashion:
trouble. Especially if you love as I love
watching the sky regret nothing but its
and stare off past Heaven. I love the word No
house more. That’s why nothing’s more romantic
than the way good love can take leave of you.