Visitation<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
My neighbor tonight is in his underwear
\ncarrying out a bag of trash, a working-class
\nSanta, no robe, his spindly calves
\ncatching the sequined moonlight
\nlike the face of the sickly kid
\nin the war movie on the late night
\nyou know will freeze up in the big battle.
\nHe is not drinking or cursing the dark
\nor taking a drag on the faint fire-fly
\nof a cigarette; he is just crossing
\nthe cracked and scored rectangle
\nof the driveway\/ basketball court
\nwearing only white underwear
\nand a pair of flip-flops that make
\nan odd little tune, clip-clip, scrape,
\nclip-clip, above the canned applause
\nof a tv show looping out
\nof the window into the zombie slave
\nglow of tonight\u2019s stars. And to
\nthe other hierarchal order of almost
\nbut not quite invisible beings
\nfor whom he\u2019s carrying this load
\nof manna, to the unwashed crowd
\nawaiting bread crusts, coffee filters,
\nbanana peels, grapefruit rinds, left-over
\nchicken pot pie, his mind is
\ngreat and unknowable and terrible
\nand his questions play the die
\nof chance or fate, and what he
\nempties into the metal can may
\nnot be enough, or may not be in
\ntime, or will not last until the next
\nvisitation, but he has risen anyway
\nfrom his tv and his bag of potato chips
\nas if he understood the role of a god
\nwas to atone for his long absences
\nas best he can.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
“Visitation” previously appeared in Pontoon.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n John Glowney is a past winner of Poetry Northwest’s Richard Hugo Prize and Poetry Society of American’s Robert H. Winner’s Memorial Award.<\/a> His poems have appeared in, among others: ZYZZYVA<\/em> (forthcoming); Passager; Pontoon;<\/a> Poetry Northwest; River Styx; Green Mountains Review; Connecticut Review; Southeast Review; Alaska Quarterly Review; Nimrod, Mid-American Review, Northwest Review; Michigan Quarterly Review.\u00a0<\/a><\/em> He is a practicing attorney in Seattle.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Visitation My neighbor tonight is in his underwear carrying out a bag of trash, a working-class Santa, no robe, his spindly calves catching the sequined moonlight like the face of the sickly kid in the war movie on the … Continue reading