Sample Poems by John Zedolik

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Allowance Under


I have not seen stars in days, at least
not in their night-portions, so I should feel only

half the privation and allow the light its
obliteration of dark for a twelve- to fourteen-hour

span that bleaches the cloth necessary to let the
twinkle reach my eye if nothing else comes

between the void and me, and just hints that
I?m only lucky sometimes in this condition

down here and under all.

---

Skin is Core


Soap dissolves molecule
by molecule, runnels toward

the drain and disappearance.
The skin is core, outer the inner,

so only the shrinking,
?rounding, slipping form?

tells the age and use in water?s
cascade over body,

as it strips itself of perfumed
lye and fat rendered in most

from old flesh that loses in discrete
layers, hide to muscle to

bone and, as dross, will never take
the cleansing it yields to those

under the tap whose cells slough
to current washing all away

---

Slide and Dry


The dried paint, long since atomized
from cylindered source, once bled
in brief runnels upon the steel upon

the brick and concrete, graffito to
graffito then finally graffiti and
jagged votes of the disenfranchised

or just mischievous, snaking without
slither through the public domain that pokes
vertical from the surface just as hard,

which could use the dripping stuff
if only blood?or better, rain?and had a tongue
and maw hollowing down to an unknown depth

whence a breath of sustenance billowed up and up
to all, even the night-painters, sly sliders,
who might not need their scrawl and hiss anymore

---

Distance Education


I read Moby Dick above Loon Lake
(the obscure one of two) far north
in the Adirondacks, so the close

shores and canoe had to suffice
while the Atlantic heaved a few
hundred miles or more to the east

and the carton ships cut distances
like nothing seen in those ages
of wood and wind even as certain

Ahabs will always rage, so on the deck?
of the rented house?I sailed the pages
and learned to be wary of those captains

harpooned to white whales that wandered
even up the land into hills far from
the pressing salt of the deep.

---

Dark Riser


Orchid greets me at five a.m.
Pink-purple on top throwing
itself like confetti at a surprise

party for me?lights on?or
like a surprise at least, standing
there in the tub with plump leaves,

wax paddles pushing to joy
in the late fall morning,

or if less excited, as it is still dark
this December falling to winter,

like the arms of old Christians

Oremus

in the catacombs that are far

from here but still in gloom
like this bathroom without a window,

except the skylight that lets in the moon
when it is full or just about, but no air

for me or orchid, high and bright
in the worn plastic basin even after

I extinguish the only light

---

Waiting They Were


Waiting for the bear they were
waiting for the show that
the black bear would bring
as he rummaged in the green dumpster
against the darkened boughs of darker green and brown
for discarded doughnut scraps
and sweet other odiferous stuff
in the fluorescent bubble in the night
if the bear arrived

?But if not?

They could feast on coffee and pastry
until the small, quiet hours
if they could bear the fluorescence
and odor of frying oil
and speculate about the
possible arrival

Yes they could wait
with bottoms widening and jaws untiring
and entertain themselves just as well
I guess
as any old quiet forest bear