Inconveniences Rightly Considered

III. Conversatio

  John Wayne

  a regular old John Wayne

  was Uncle Bill

  who lost his arm one afternoon

  when a shotgun leaning against a tree

  slipped

  went off, blew off

  his arm.

  He had a hook, one that subdivided

  so he'd grip

  and hook

  and Griphook was that ornery goblin

  Harry Potter met first, when they got the elixir

  of life from the bank,

  then again when they needed to kill the horcrux.

  Grip

  from a hook on uncle Bill's arm

  he drove a jet-ski that aways,

  hooking the throttle,

  beer can in the other hand, the good hand, the real hand,

  "Hold on Lance," he said

  but he wasn't holding on

  and he died

  later on

  I saw that grip

  hook over the casket wall

  there with Aunt Midge

  -- the gypsy – in line. Hear the bells?

  On her purple dresses?

  Hear them ringing, casting

  Spells?

  sanctuary.

  sanctuary.

  sanctuary.

  Enough of this nonsense

  give me time

  oh give me space to mourn.

  Then sign the guest book or something, look there's an inch-thick

  black-dubbed-permanent marker.

  Nevermind.

  Look...

  Here take a magazine,

  a game,

  something to occupy your mind,

  please give me space

  while we wait

  in line.

  Here – take this issue,

  you'll like this one,

  it's got a pastoral lament inside, this sonnet...

  here...

  let me find it...

  there you go: