-part one / the beginning-

2/ 15/ '43

It’s a bright, sudden light.

a harsh light.

a light like to burn my eyes.

maybe it's heaven’s light––

could be the 24 hour snack emporium's

light of florescence, the buzzing light that never sleeps,

not for Christmas, not for holy days of obligation––

not even for when J.F.K. gets popped, for chrissakes!

and me, a standard issue male,

7 pounds plus an ounce calculated fo be up to 7:

an abstract creature–– twice

removed descendant of 

Lucca, northern province where

our cousins are blonde-headed

just south of Switzerland

my mother would come to say

wrapped-up in a warped geography,––

and me, born in time to make early

reservations to Mussolini’s inversion,––

and me, a slimy pink bauble wailing

to be pushed back to the inside as a sterilized

maniac slaps me senseless into the dry

cruel new word.

February 15, 1943:

Truesdale Hospital

Fall River, Massachusetts,––

and me, slithering my way between

common anesthesia and thalidomide

the miracle drug to help her relax a little,

take it easy, kick back, it's a boy,––

this, long before zip codes

long before area codes––

a time when

telephones were heavier

than volume 18: "M to Mexico"

inconvenient, but––

you got to where you otherwise

wouldn’t want to be;

a place at the end of the line,

a time when the Moon

was considered a deep sky object

and neighborhood kids were doomed

by the physical force of domestic politics

to Saturday morning confessionals

before being strapped-in for the afternoon

accordion lessons.

my father,

a non-recipient

of the Congressional Medal of Honor

had just stepped out of World War 2

Minneapolis, Minnesota, 

bringing home

his souvenir MP armband

and his bully club

a highly lacquered

two-footer

with attached

rawhide loop at the base

used for

clubbing stability and swinging

accuracy.

my mother

had her work cut out for her,––

and me, acting the part of a stencil.

she’d done this

once before, and after me

she’d do it again for the last time,

but this time, taking time off to finish me off,

with no gratuity as "maternity leave with pay"

at the sweltering Sagamore textile mill in the early days of 1943...

end of part one