FAMILY
His Dublin sister, two sons,
three nieces all called him
Himself—you could hear
the capital. Startled,
amused, annoyed
by his wildness, past and present—
race-car driving, madcap sails, cross-
country ski patrol, carousing once
with his buddies at four favorite bars
before “repairing” to the hospital
for his broken leg. You can’t
tell Himself a thing, not atall.
Takes after his Mum, he does.
Whose shenanigans got her tossed
out of three old folks’ homes.
Aye, dear, an outrage he is.
ROCKS
More miles with him
than with anyone else.
Desert and mountain,
rock at all elevations.
New Hampshire’s Monad-
nock, Arizona’s Wrightson
(nearly 20 years older
but thinner, fitter, he led),
up Colorado’s Mt. Democrat:
at 75 he wanted to bag
a 14,000 footer. Afterwards
he called it Mt. Republican.
Our politics weren’t aligned
like our steps. Thousands
of miles, the trail we made
together. Ten years.
A HIGH POINT
Booted, day-packed, hatted, we
switch-backed up toward Blackett’s,
rested at the saddle, tackled
the last rise, crested.
Walked the thinning ridge
past the End of Trail sign,
nestled among the rocks
to make coffee, break
chocolate. Ravens rode
the updrafts for a look
at us: humans
unreasonably high.
SOUTHWEST
*
A prickly pear held its paddles out,
the usual botanical display
of solar panels. But its bio-
chemistry was crashing, the skin
yellow, no longer able
to change sunlight into life.
*
We hiked, by ourselves
and with a club, but something
was stuck. Our place un-
furnished except for bed
and desks: I wanted a sofa, he
a loveseat. What if someone
visits?
Exactly, he said.
TRANSPORT
Night desert. Bright earth. Sharpness—
stars like needles, barrel cactus
bristling with fishhooks. Tick
of the cosmos close
to audible.
We left thornscrub
and hoodoos, the lucid air
that floats us all, drove
northeast every January
for my spring term teaching.
He would not stay in Tucson
but oh he must have missed
his big friends the mountains.
Instead, Ohio’s bean- and cornfields,
clouds and drizzle. Snowy owls
drifted south from Ontario.
He clouded, dimmed,
invented Elm Hall, our home
north or southwest.
These poems are from Left, winner of Beloit Poetry Journal’s 2024 Chad Walsh chapbook award, forthcoming in the fall.
