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Transcript of Father
University of Northern Iowa
FatherAuthor(s): David WidenerSource: The North American Review, Vol. 254, No. 2 (Summer, 1969), p. 45Published by: University of Northern IowaStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/25116966 .
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This content downloaded from 194.29.185.230 on Tue, 17 Jun 2014 14:52:52 PMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
DAVID WIDENER
FATHER
Blue ink on a red line, cause of death, cancer of the spine.
"A quiet patient; used to read."
Nude on a lighter winking at me,
billfold of rent receipts telling me
of six dollar weeks at the Panama;
address book full of jugster debts, and a few, final words
from the poet of the Underbelly,
wishing to be excused.
"An old woman said no pissing
on the steps of the church?so I quit."
Slowly, the terminal wards,
corridors of black nurses
squeaking like bats among men
propped in green air,
smelling of some bashful logic? eyes down, reading, reading,
sensing where I walk,
each eye a slow afternoon
down from the wing of the morgue,
where death rolls from the wall
left eye open for me to close,
right eye red, resisting.
Rudely I sit by his side
being friendly with his death,
my hands asleep on his chest,
my fingers swelling and curling like burnt, white candles
in a garden of flesh?
bending to kiss the red eye, I taste the dry ice of his life, the warm slums swallowing me
like wine down a cold volcano,
down where vagabonds go
in the summer of their death.
MARVIN BELL
PRIVACY
You bend for pity. You are on your knees, begging.
Modesty is the vise
in which you seat their heads.
You murder them.
They wanted to kill you.
You murder them.
They wanted to ask you.
They wanted to ask you to table.
But you have killed
and have no appetite.
You would hunger for your friends
if you thought they wished it.
You would leave your wife
if she didn't leave you alone.
You would beg on your knees
without a tray.
You would hold your head
while they sawed it through.
You agree to turn up later
for restoration.
You agree to share in
your just desserts.
You agree to wear a jacket
to the burning of your books.
Summer 1969 45
This content downloaded from 194.29.185.230 on Tue, 17 Jun 2014 14:52:52 PMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions