David Kirby: “There are daily killings in our country for many reasons, but the dozen or more mass shootings (generally defined as involving four or more victims) over a weekend that inspired this poem stem largely from a growth in firearm availability that is only partially understood by experts, largely opposed by the American public, and seemingly unstoppable.” (web)
Image: “Truck Stop Shell” by Greg Clary. “The Next Time” was written by Byron Hoot for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, April 2022, and selected as the Artist’s Choice. (PDF / JPG)
__________
Byron Hoot
THE NEXT TIME
They gather when they hear LaRue’s horn
on 80 sound. Rose smiles, starts thinking
of what she’s going to say when he says,
“What’s new with you?” The ghosts come
one by one, two by two. They know that horn,
they know the whine of that truck, they know
what’s left behind. Enter the Iron Kettle
Restaurant at The American Plaza truck stop.
They take their places at the counter; Cokes
and coffee and cigarettes and the smell
of the grill and soft conversation
and sudden laughter and softer sighs mix
with all of them looking for LaRue’s truck
to pull in. They talk as if they’re living, as though
yesterday was yesterday and tomorrow is tomorrow.
Jim says, “It was real.” Steve replies, “It was a dream.”
An old argument to which Reverend Smith decides—
“It was both.” They all look outside: the empty pumps,
the wind-damaged signs, the cracked concrete, no
trucks, no cars, no people. Rose says “He’s not
coming” like saying the Rosary. First light is breaking,
they get up slowly and leave, mumbling, “Maybe next time.”
Comment from the artist, Greg Clary: “The story of ghosts gathering each evening in hopes of seeing their old trucker friend was imaginative and compelling. This is not a story of random travelers but that of a truck stop family whose nighttime vigil maintains and sustains their relationship. The scene and characters inside the Iron Kettle are vividly described and quite relatable to any traveler who has sought out a familiar roadside respite. The once vibrant, but now deserted truck stop’s impact on these likable spirits is melancholy. Yet, even as another dawn breaks without the return of their lost friend, LaRue, hope prevails—‘Maybe next time.’”
Catherine St. Denis: “I am a teacher-librarian, and I often ask my students to make connections between the texts we read together and other texts, their lives, or the world at large. I have not yet written about libraries or librarianship, but here is my ‘text-to-text’ connection: A poem is a sort of library, filled with the guts of language, stacked with colorful layers of meaning, and always striving to enforce an absurd attempt at order amidst chaos.”
Rayon Lennon: “The decorated country music super star Naomi Judd, 76, recently took her life after decades of battle with mental illness. We learned this week how she died. She died a few days before being inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame. Arlana Miller, 19, a first-year student at Southern University and A&M College, recently committed suicide after posting a detailed suicide note to Instagram about her struggles with what appeared to be depression. Two beautiful souls with so much to live for were killed by mental illness. As a therapist who also struggles with low-level depression, I wanted to highlight the hell of depression. When my car didn’t start recently, I found the perfect metaphor to highlight the features of depression. People with depression tend to have low or no energy/motivation to do basic tasks, like getting out of bed. Arlana’s note is perhaps the most detailed and tragic suicide note I have ever read. It’s all there—emptiness/worthlessness/excessive guilt, distorted thinking, suicidal ideation, hopelessness, etc. It’s sad. It’s a reality for millions of people each day.” (web)
Jill Kandel: “I grew up in North Dakota and married a man from the Netherlands. We spent ten years living and working abroad in Zambia, Indonesia, England, and Holland. I began writing poetry as a way to play with words and intensity. I wanted to condense my writing into something tighter and brighter. I love the journey into poetry. It’s just about all I read these days. My four children have moved out of the house and I find myself needing to write about time and motherhood, past and present. Regrets. Hindsight. Love. This poem goes back to the time when my first daughter was born, in a small village in Zambia on the edge of the Kalahari Basin. I lived there for six years.” (web)
T.R. Poulson: “After winning the Kentucky Derby, 80-1 long shot Rich Strike tried to bite the lead pony. This poem is in response to comments by his trainer, Eric Reed, after that bite seen around the internet. The form of the poem is an imitation of one of my all-time favorite poems, ‘Her Kind,’ by Anne Sexton.”
Taylor Mali: “I define spoken word as ‘poetry written first for the ear, and then for the eye,’ and that’s the kind of poetry I write. But the older I get, the more those two become the same. Still, I curate a series in New York City called Page Meets Stage (where the Pulitzer Prize meets the Poetry Slam), and those nights are magic for me.” (web)
