November 8, 2022

Danny Mask

 
 
This is the day.
 
So says the curtain
that darkens the room
 
as we lie on the floor
like wet towels
 
with our mouths full
of each other.
 

ELECTION DAY

from Poets Respond
November 8, 2022

__________

Danny Mask: “This poem came about after reading an article about voting the night before, as well as a list of what makes Americans happy, in a discussion after having sex with my wife. We asked each other, as we lay on the floor, what makes us happier: Sex or voting? We both agreed, sex. But it’s also important to get up off the floor and vote.”

Rattle Logo

December 9, 2021

Danny Mask

 

The snow’s blank whiteness
makes the hole in the ice
difficult to see. It’s there.
Big enough for a distracted
person to fall into. The ice hole
easily could not be missed. Especially
by this man. He’s looking down
onto his phone with a determined
lack of care. Placing a sign next
to this ice hole, wouldn’t make
a difference. I hesitate to warn him.
Maybe, he’ll get lucky and miss it.
Besides, the ice hole has nothing
to do with me. I yell over to him
anyway, “watch out, ice hole.”
Right before he fell in, he said
“what did you just call me?”

ICE HOLE

from Poets Respond
December 9, 2021

__________

Danny Mask: “The genesis for this poem came from the intersection of my interpretation of a line taken from a Christmas greeting card, along with my love for word play, and the mind numbing social debate over vaccinations.”

Rattle Logo

February 25, 2021

Ekphrastic Challenge, January 2021: Editor’s Choice

 

Bucket by Danny Mask, a bucket full of water with ripple rings

Image: “Bucket” by Danny Mask. “Bound for Glory” was written by Melissa McKinstry for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, January 2021, and selected as the Editor’s Choice.

[download: PDF / JPG]

__________

Melissa McKinstry

BOUND FOR GLORY

Take to heart these instructions with which I charge you this day.
Impress them upon your children.
–Deuteronomy 6: 6-7

Another Saturday. Johnny Cash chugs This train is bound for glory
from the old Philco in the tack room. Kittens in the sack bound for the river.

Dogs bound against chains, wanting what’s mewling in the sack.
Rhode Island Reds done laying are caged—yellow eyes wild,

they growl and peck the wire in the truck bed next to the kittens.
The sky is a week-old bruise over it all. At the auction barn,

someone’s bound to bid low for chicken dinner. One of us kids
will ride with Dad, fiddle the radio knob on the old Chevy,

watch when he chucks the kittens into the Green River.
And we’ll come home—empty cage, sack gone, oats and a bale of alfalfa

in the truck bed for the pony. Our barn coats smell like motor oil
and petrichor. Mom’s already ordered a new box of chicks

from Sears Roebuck. The postmaster will call in a few weeks
to tell her she’s got a package making a racket. We’ll have a heat lamp ready.

As clouds lower over the corral, we’ll sit on the top rail, kick small boots
against the fence, and watch Clarence Mallory’s step van open its maw

to swallow the pigs who squeal at what’s coming. Each will hang
to bleed from the hook, eyes leaking out the mystery. Bound to ritual,

Mom and Dad have shown us how to put faith in something unseen.
Now Chinook winds cross the plateau, Mt. Rainier darkens.

Buckets of rain water soak blood into the dirt, and I latch the barn door
for the night. We wash for dinner, hold hands for grace.

God is great. God is good. Let us thank Him for our food.

from Ekphrastic Challenge
January 2021, Editor’s Choice

__________

Comment from the editor, Timothy Green: “Some of the most powerful ekphrastic poems use the artwork like Proust’s ‘madeleine moment,’ pulling us deep inside an involuntary memory. In ‘Bound for Glory,’ the details are so precise and vivid, it quickly feels like our memory, too, leaving us transported and transformed. Importantly, the meaning of the memory is left unsaid, allowing the reader to feel its weight.”

Rattle Logo

February 18, 2021

Ekphrastic Challenge, January 2021: Artist’s Choice

 

Bucket by Danny Mask, a bucket full of water with ripple rings

Image: “Bucket” by Danny Mask. “Call Me Boy on Saturdays” was written by Jackson Jesse Nash for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, January 2021, and selected as the Artist’s Choice.

[download: PDF / JPG]

__________

Jackson Jesse Nash

CALL ME BOY ON SATURDAYS

We knocked doors
and when a yes came for a carwash
we asked if they’d fill our bucket,
removing the sponges and chamois,
the bottle of car shampoo
from the local garage
and hand over that green plastic money-maker
to quench our thirst for coins.
We scrubbed, suds dribbled,
rippled in rivulets
seemingly swallowed
by thirsty gaps in the bonnet,
and if they didn’t have a hose
(oh God, please have a hose),
we’d ask for another bucket load,
two, three, four, to rinse our labor
from car to drain to pocket,
endless heaving, hurling,
watching water
hang

for slowly curling moments in the air
like 5 liters of glycerin
before exploding
over clean windshields and us,

two kids, 10 years old,
we sold our wiper blade arms,
our skinny please sir charms,
bargaining hard
with Michael’s Dickensian urchin smile,
fueled by that never-ending gasoline of Saturday!,
giving sponge baths
to the red rust-buckets of Galleywood,
pail hanging jaunty in the crook of my best friend’s arm,
a vat of charisma,
the tool of a car washing cult leader.
At his mum’s council flat
we’d count the pennies,
he’d claim extra for the sponges
or the shampoo, the chamois,
anything he thought I’d forget to tally,
but I never argued,
let it spill easy from my mind
like the cheap cola we poured on the pavement
just to watch it fizz,

because I was there
for the old man downstairs with failing eyes
who thought we were cousins,
the outlines of our matching blonde curtains
and black t-shirts—mine Taz, his Sonic—
washing rheumy into something related,
he’d shuffle out into the bleach stinking stairwell,
stalling, searching for something
to wipe away the boredom, anything
to start his engine,
drive some conversation,
in his hand a bag, shaking
hard sticky sweets we’d never eat,

and then he’d ask my favorite question:
How many cars did you wash today, boys?
and I silently prayed for Michael
(oh God, please don’t give it away)
not to ever laugh,
not to ever, ever say
but she’s a girl!
I would have paid all my pennies,
washed mud-caked jalopies
bare-handed in a hurricane,
peeled bugs off car windows until the end of time,
knocked doors until my knuckles bled,
cracked all my teeth
on those rock-hard prehistoric sweets,
flung fifty buckets of icy water
over my craving little girl head,
just to feel the thrill
of hearing that old man call me boy
one more time
on a Saturday.

from Ekphrastic Challenge
January 2021, Artist’s Choice

__________

Comment from the artist, Danny Mask: “‘Call me Boy on Saturdays’ is an inspiring and youthfully happy, fast clip, high energy jaunt, following two young entrepreneurs as they wash cars. The winner of this challenge engaged my imagination with an easy-going, relaxed, well-grounded very relatable story, guided by conversational living room logic. I was there with them on their journey, all along the way! This poem entered my hard heart by giving me a reason to care, it had a strong sense of the writer’s world, and brought back strong memories of my own childhood, when my twin brother and I climbed up and down tall trees to get mistletoe and sold it door to door at Christmas when we were 10 years old. The winner of this challenge is a purposely breezy, sweet, self-conscious autobiographic narrative, that, thank god, is not too long or dense. It uses clear—with a hint of vernacular—conscious, concrete, figurative language, with a tinge of nostalgia.”

Rattle Logo