James Scannell McCormick
Answer
Madison, Wisconsin
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
— cummings
Amorous – never without a grin, you'd gloss
It: inclined to love! For you it was always the whole
Tipping world itself that would slip to toss
You – heartlong, headsick – into passion. You'd roll
A joint in the Union – "Unreal City!" – then cock
Your fiery shock of hair – "Unreal!" – and smoke
Until the chirpy, prewar German, in mock
Fraktur, whirled from the walls. "But who" you'd joke,
Unsmiling, "cares what I think? I'm a Jew."
Upended by love for women, you once dusted
Your lashes cherry blue and asked, "Do you
Believe me now?" Spun, you blushed. But trusted.
Thus bone crushed in a casket of ashes, you,
Unhearing, lie: I did believe you. I do.
Bio
James Scannell McCormick's third collection of poems is title First of Pisces (Kelsay Books). He lives and teaches college English in Rochester, Minnesota