ISSN: 1941-4137
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
Hailing from the farm valleys of west Appalachia, Ben Kline lives in Cincinnati, Ohio, toiling away on his full-length manuscript Twang and two little chapbooks while drinking just the right amount of bourbon, coffee and wine. His work is forthcoming or has recently appeared in Toe Good, Rappahannock Review, Grist Online, Riggwelter, The Mantle, Ghost City Review, apt, ImageOutWrite Vol. 7, The Offing, Impossible Archetype and many more.
Spell to Unbind Family Ties
Type ten digits and dial
for an expected result,
for a recognized voice,
though such ghosts, like math,
occasionally lie, and some
adults prefer you never finish
the problem, just place your
thumb across the microphone slot
and whisper Jesus H Christ,
and some brothers prefer
not to equate beyond spouses
or wedding receptions yet
would tell you to hang up,
to give up listening to wind,
and your one sister would
produce no result, no verifiable
answer, like a galaxy reacting
to unseen ancient forces outward,
and your mom’s best attempt
to make Advent rosary a fun way
to earn favor with Santa, who
was just another lie on an error
report you hand wrote and hid in
your neatly sorted sock drawer,
like that photo of the four of you
creased white with wallet keeping
in the years after the funeral,
no one smiling nor crying
because the sky ripped wide
to scream and filled shoes
with cemetery truth as brown
as the grave’s walls losing volume
to the coffin suddenly afloat.
"Spell to Unbind Family Ties" began as a bourbon-infused thought about funerals being both ending and beginning. A remaining great aunt passes and her side of an extended family no longer visits at Christmas or attends the summer reunion. A spouse dies and the widowed empty nester sells the house, crossing country to become a yogi in Malibu, video chatting the kids on weekends. Cousins transition to social media, big weddings, occasional funerals. Birthday greetings become texts, not cards. The loss rarely draws people closer. I wondered why and considered how families often splinter with time, geography, politics, money, illness and much more. I felt a dark magic at work and wrote this poem to expose it to light.
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
All contents © the author.
All contents © the author.
