National Poetry Month 2017: Stan Rogal,

The Double Hook

            for Sheila Watson

           

there were strange gatherings stranger

opened with a murder, the old lady falling

whence all have departed or will step out of the air

strong odour of lemon drops & mothballs

during the mother’s walking — how she look

(so on so forth) gone down to the river

gone down to the river to pray, as the song goes

Ave Maria : benedictus fructus ventis tui : introibo ad

altare Dei — white as a wall of snow, red as a pit of fire

blessed is the fruit of thy womb : I shall go to the alter

of God : spark a cigarette, pour a coffee : hail Mary

will you not dig this bird up again?

gossip went both ways out each side of the mouth

under coyote’s eye dealt a wicked pack of cards

displayed a horror for emptiness, rummaged the

sewing basket of the gods

in the same body loved a beast & despised a husband

the liquid was the distillation of human bodies

pushed to the edge (nonetheless) sprouted wings & flew

Stan Rogal has been hounding the poetry scene for many (too, according to some) years in an attempt to sink his teeth and mark his territory within the literary landscape. Recent scratchings include: Arc, Windsor Salt, The Dalhousie Review and Bark. Also a dozen books of poems that bear testament to his dogged determination. He is otherwise controlled by a firm leash and calls Toronto home.