Chaun Ballard
SURVIVAL IS A MATTER OF PERSPECTIVE WHEN
We step four feet onto pavement
my wife & I
confident in what we know
will be
a good jog
to air out whatever it is the robins sing—
With each breath
the runner before us
turns
torn
then retreats back
in failure
the length
of the sidewalk—
On our right
a moose comes into frame
Maybe a yearling
perhaps the same from May 15
abandoned almost instinctually
by its mother
in preparation for her newborn—
The moose has aged into tree trunk
a UPS delivery truck
in fur
tall enough to raise its head
from the ground
over the seven-foot wooden fence
Who says Good fences make good neighbors?
How I relish this
Wish it became more
than a proverb
applicable
in all situations
But the truth is
what holds beautiful
in one context
does not hold beautiful
when misused
in another
For example
There are only a few bad apples
for some
implies
that if you purchase a bushel
identify the bad ones
remove a few rotten Haralsons
there is no great loss
In essence
the others may be salvaged—
But what if the few bad apples were identifiably pilots
joked Chris Rock
What if the airlines said
We have a few “bad apples”
pilots that like to crash into mountains—
Please bear with us—?
Would you
bear with them?
See how the fence changes
See how the moose remains there
across the street
like the only tree
absent of flowers
& fruit
See how its shade of tree trunk bears none—
Bad apples
Who took you out of context?
Who bruised you
into new proverb
when we know one bad apple spoils the bunch?
Now see how the moose turns
to look at us
& we turn into statues
Now
it no longer sees another woman
in her sunglasses
gliding along its path
& my God
it is such a beautiful day
We all should stay
safe from such tragedy
to have our moment a while longer
in the sun
like a branch of apple blossoms
before descending red globes
In Alaska
we call this June 4
&
Thursday
Now / see / how everything / slows / down / after all the build-up: / the moose— / the woman—when all you want to hear / is / what happens / because you now have a picture / that is not unlike a passenger train / with joy-filled faces / who wave at the locals in each town / & crossing / Each beautiful mile / peaceful / hands raised in solidarity / to a window— / & see how I have said nothing of metaphor / outright / I have said nothing of police / nor their view from a riot-proof frame— / See how / this is the first time I mention / riot / when I mention / police / This is called / rhetoric— /
&
the moose does not see the woman
on her bike
as we see the woman
on her bike:
a blissful train approaching
from the opposite end of the same track
&
no one has to tell you
who lives—
&
it is such a beautiful day
&
the sun is where it should be
&
the breeze is light
&
pleasant
&
I am trying to hold onto the moment
a while longer
for the woman’s sake
but repetition is impending
&
the ampersand is causing tension
evoking a response
but even an emotional response
is situational
because repetition
is a rhetorical device
&
because this is a poem
it has the power to delay
but not to build a fence
nor resolve the situation that will end
in the body of the poem—
which means
repetition does not forewarn in every situation—
which means
if you look like the woman
you keep riding your bike
toward danger
with your eyes
on the interracial couple
If you are a moose
you are still looking at the threat
for a positive ID
&
if we yell
MOOSE!
several times
neither of the two will see the other
The moose will deem us threat
The woman may think argument
&
if she sees the moose
before it is too late
she may turn around
In Alaska
a moose attacks when it feels threatened
A bike rider rides their bike
because it is summer
When you think of repetition
what comes to mind?
In most communities
if you look like me
innercity
in contrast
to a picket fence
the woman calls the police
She calls the police
She calls the police
if she survives
Perhaps half
of a whole couple
runs
out of time
—from Rattle #70, Winter 2020
Rattle Poetry Prize Finalist
__________
Chaun Ballard: “No one was harmed during the writing of this poem. The woman on her bike lived, just barely missing the kick from the moose’s hind legs. As she passed us, she said, ‘Oh! I was wondering what was going on.’ I remember being stunned, wondering what she thought we were shouting about and gesturing for if not for her safety. Around this same time, in Anchorage, a Black man jogging was questioned about his presence in the neighborhood close to his home. The recording aired on our local news, and the community came together to host a jog in his support. This Anchorage incident came not too long after the murders of Ahmaud Arbery and George Floyd. In the context of our country’s movement against racism, the whole event felt surreal. I, of course, am grateful to be here to tell the tale.” (web)
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