Two poems

Abstract

two poems Anders Carlson-Wee (bio) Dean Interrupts My Dream Oconto, Wisconsin Hey fella, you asleep? I hate to wakeyou up like this, but I gotta warn you:the heater's broke. Darn thing went limpoutta nowhere and it's gonna get cold.I can't tell you how cold it's gonna getbut it's gonna get cold. You best dolike me and walk some of the night out,pace the house and get your enginerevved up and that. And if you hearwhat sounds like a ruckus upstairs,don't worry: that's just me hoppin for heat.I hop as high as a man can get and landin a full squat and do that on repeat.I know it sounds loony but it works,pumps the blood good enough to give Goda boner. Shadowboxin works tooif you pretend the fight's real and dealthe guy grief, but that takes imaginationwhile hoppin is a sure thing. And buddy,if you get so you're just too darn cold—and I mean balls-turned-into-stones cold—don't suffer it. You let me know [End Page 463] and we'll see what body heat can do.Mind you, I aint sittin around dreamin ofthrowin sausage fests anymorethan the next man. A man's a man'sa man's a man and all that, but I'll just come outand say it: I like ladies. We'll stick tothe hoppin and the boxin and see howwe last. But if you get so you're justtoo darn cold—and god's honest truth,I'd as soon balloon into an ice cubeas share sheets with a fella—but if you getso you're just about set to petrify . . . [End Page 464] Lyle Clears My Throat Boone County, Kentucky Fair warning: I gotta roll my motherevery half hour or so to curb bedsores,but I wanna hear this story. Just keepit down cause she's asleep and I needthe door cracked to hear her heart.Well, not her heart. The monitor is whatI listen to. It's been a year this June.I come upstairs and found her on the floor,drove her to local before they coptered usto the U. Let me roll her quick and youcan start your story, which I'm dyingto hear. Where we're at now, she can't lifther own arm, but if you lift it to start withshe can ease it back down real slow,controlling the speed and choosingwhere it lands, you know? They got heron a food tube and all that, machinestracking her heart and lungs, the works.She's basically comatose, but she can shakeher head for no and you'd be surprisedhow much power that gives you.They had her hooked up to this thing—I don't know what you call it—a shocktreatment kind of thing they hopedwould give her back her speech. But whenthey explained all this she shook her head.Doc said shake once for yes and four for no.If the math wasn't happening I coulda [End Page 465] called the shots, but you know damn wellthat head shook exactly four times.So they sent us home. Somehow she bossesme around with that headshake, gets acrossevery little message. And it's weird,I've started talking. Used to be as quietas a mule, but with her gone mute I feelit's my duty to put something in the air.And now I can't seem to shut up.I tell her every little thing, even tell herwhat I'm doing while I'm doing it,which I never used to do. But enough of meclearing your throat. Just let me roll heronce more—No, that's mighty kind of you,but I'd just as soon roll her myself,plus I get a decent workout doing it.Friends ask me how I'm holding up.That's what they say...