John Dorsey

 

Teddy Bear Poem

i never thought
i’d end up
like some discarded
carnival teddy bear
with one of its eyes
eaten away by time
& illness
& a fear of doctors
inherited
from my grandmother
who also used to
keep wads of cash
hidden under
her floorboards

i knew what she would’ve said
hide everything
under your mattress
& run like hell.

Mixing Martinis in Your Mother’s Basement
(for david floyd)

i feel for you
i’ve spent the last thirty years
trying to avoid
having to move back in
to my parents house
my father silent
& often angry
after a hard life
my mother sweet
but with no knowledge
of world events
i don’t know if your mother
even has a basement
but in the one i’m imagining
the light makes it hard
to mix a martini
in the late afternoon
as you wait for a poem
like a date that doesn’t show
i imagine your mother
had a secret affair
with frank sinatra
almost exactly nine months
before you were born
& that’s where
you got your taste
for classy threads
& a vocabulary
that must have felt out of place
in suburban new jersey
while i will always
cling to the latest in trailer park fashion
i have always tried to outrun my past
but i guess you can’t teach class
it’s just something
you’re born with.

 

Cyclops Song or Writing a Ballad in the ICU

with one eye front & center
i wonder what people will think
when i get out of here
will they call me a cyclops in search of a prairie
a ghost in the shape of a rose
just hoping to be left alone
i wonder if the night nurse
regrets getting that tattoo
of a sparrow
on her right ankle
back in high school
that even now
looks slightly infected
under the hospital lights
her hair sweaty & matted
after a 12-hour shift
waiting for her slow dance
with the mid missouri heat to be over with
leonard cohen’s angels of mercy
at least got to come out of the rain
long enough to say a prayer
after that what good is a song
when your pockets are full of poems
that will never make it out of this room
when the moonlight feels dead
when all you do
is stare at bare walls
& that same nurse’s hand
feels cool to the touch.

From Farewell Tour published by Tangerine Press

 

John Dorsey is the former Poet Laureate of Belle, MO. He is the author of several collections of poetry, including Which Way to the River: Selected Poems: 2016-2020 (OAC Books, 2020), Sundown at the Redneck Carnival, (Spartan Press, 2022, Pocatello Wildflower, (Crisis Chronicles Press, 2023) and Dead Photographs, (Stubborn Mule Press, 2024). He may be reached at archerevans@yahoo.com.