Joe Dolce: Five Poems

Gruel

 

Oliver asked for more. Politely.

(He still got belted.)

Popular literature was culprit

for mongrel association,

to starvation and poverty,

but gruel has papers.

Maize mush was the primary food

of Mayans and Aztecs; a staple

of ancient Greeks and Roman plebeians.

Gruel allowed women to stop

breast-feeding after only two years,

halving the birth interval,

exploding population.

Oatmeal, porridge, mediaeval gruya,

Middle Eastern burbura, Korean jat-juk,

Ethiopian genfo, Mexican atole—

most common today: Asian congee,

eaten since 2500 BC.

Hot malted milk is gruel,

but Ovaltine and Horlick’s

refrain from the stigma

(for commercial reasons).

Soup derives from Sop—a slice of bread soaked in gruel.

Historians believe gruel slop existed

12,000 years ago, and was a key trigger

in the Neolithic Revolution, and

departure from the Stone Age.

Joe Dolce

 

Hotel Hiroshima

Stepping onto it, after a hot

shower, was memorable,

so I pinched the bath mat—

Hotel Hiroshima.

In the restaurant, at midnight,

a single tempura’d Black Sea Bream,

caught in Hiroshima Bay,

curved on my plate.

Not Godzilla, but some

have registered 12,400 becquerels,

per kilo, of radioactive cesium.

Upon departure, a complimentary key ring:

Sayōnara—Hotel Hiroshima.

Joe Dolce

Pardon?

The President shall have Power to grant Reprieves and Pardons except in Cases of Impeachment.

—Article II, Section 2, United States Constitution

 

Richard Nixon, pardoned by Gerald Ford,

for Watergate. The press secretary, repulsed, resigned.

(Public cried backdoor deal. Didn’t buy it.)

Cost Ford the re-election.

 

Peter Yarrow, part of folk trio, Peter, Paul and Mary,

pardoned by Jimmy Carter,

for improper liberties,

with 14-year old fan.

 

Patty Hearst, heiress to the Hearst fortune,

pardoned by Bill Clinton,

for bank robberies,

with the Symbionese Liberation Army.

 

Brigham Young, pardoned by James Buchanan,

for leading Mormons,

in armed conflict against US troops.

As governor, threatened

to burn Salt Lake City, Utah, to the ground.

Resigned.

 

Samuel Mudd, pardoned by Andrew Johnson,

for conspiracy, in the assassination

of Abraham Lincoln.

 

All Confederate soldiers, pardoned by Andrew Johnson,

for insurrection,

during the Civil War.

 

George Wilson, pardoned by Andrew Jackson,

for murder and mail train robbery.

Refused clemency.

Hanged.

Joe Dolce

 

Yubitsume 

Yubi o tobasu (He made his finger fly)

Finger shortening.

Ritual introduced in 17th century,

by bakuto gamblers,

feudal forerunners of yakuza

(ya-ku-sa, the worst possible hand

in the card game, Oicho-Kabu).

Atonement for offences to another,

to show sincere apology, by means

of amputation of portions

of one’s own little finger.

In Kendo, finger-amputees,

unable to grip swords properly,

became more reliant on protection

of oyabun (foster parent).

The left hand,

determined by Japanese culture,

forbidding left-handedness, is laid,

onto a small clean cloth, face-down.

The kobun (foster child), with a sharp tantō,

cuts above top knuckle.

The severed tip (iki yubi—

living finger), wrapped in cloth,

is graciously submitted to the oyabun.

Further offences require further joints.

Joe Dolce

William Crowe

 

My own true love was decent,

as good as good men go,

bad fortune turned him bittersweet,

my husband, William Crowe.

 

Mother often begged me,
“Oh Sal, why won’t you go?”

I couldn’t quit that battering man,
my husband, William Crowe.

 

He hit me with his hand and fist,

when he was in whisky,

then gave me a white faux fur coat,

and apologized to me.

I turned my face so many times,

I pleaded with him so,

he never changed his bruising ways,

my husband, William Crowe.

 

I snuck his Johnnie Walker

(he was too drunk to know),

half-filled it up with RatSak while

he watched his late night show.

The bedroom was so quiet,

he slept and never woke,
I poisoned-dead that battering man,

my husband, William Crowe.

My mother’s at her window,

her face no more I’ll see,

that jury’s word was cold as hell—

the needle waits for me.

 

Oh darling mother, find me, pray,

in Heaven’s afterglow,

for I have killed a battering man,

whose name was William Crowe.

Joe Dolce