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Don Bouchard Nov 2013
The girls had just come in from gathering fuel,
Laid the frozen cow pats in the box
Beside the stove,
Went in to wash for supper.

The old house creaked beneath a towering wind
Gray-full of promise that driving snow was on the way,
But though it shook, the shingles stayed;
The smoldering fire warmed and cheered
The children as they stamped their feet to chase the cold away,
Hands outstretched to catch the radiant heat.

A distant cloud of war in Europe loomed,
Sinister, though far, the children vaguely knew,
By catching whispered grown up conversations....
Though not yet reality for German-Russian Mennonites
Now Montana farmers on the eastern plains
To which they'd run to find a peaceful space
To settle far from persecution.

Before the supper washing and the setting of the plates,
Grandmother moved to catch the evening news,
Turned a dial to set the tubes aglow
And warm the wireless magic in the radio.

Crackling to life, a man's voice said, "Achtung!"
Early winter, 1938 on Montana's wind-blown plains,
The evening news presented ******'s venomed speech
Declaring war and warnings and impending dooms.

Mesmerized, my German grandma stood,
Suddenly cold inside the warm kitchen,
Staring out the window toward the barn,
Tears running down her cheeks,
Her children gathered round.

"Mama! Mama! What is the matter?"
My mother begged to know,
tugged upon her mother's apron,
Wondered at the power of words
To make her mother cry.

"That man has terrible power!"
Was all my grandma said, trying to be calm,
Then turning back to ready table
Before the men came in for supper.

Seventy-five years later,
Sitting at the kitchen table on the farm,
My mother's voice trails off...
******, and her mother...
How many millions gone?

Powerful within the room,
The memory rests.
Outside, the same wind blows;
Only absent snow-gray clouds
Beneath the ice-blue skies.
Based on several conversations with my 85 year old mother about her experience of hearing ******'s speech on American radio, 1938.
I stood across the room from you today.
Grey sweater, hugging.
Aquamarine, clinging.
Jeans, scarred from mainstream mechanics.
I remember these things. From before, I mean. Was it not long ago that I touched these things tenderly? Did I not lift your shirt to kiss your belly? Didn’t I pull this same sweater from you to caress your arms?
You accused me once of not remembering the time, special in it’s time. You’re a man! It was not that long ago? You must remember!
At the time, yes, I forgot. The memories were a brief passing in my mind. Oh yes, I remember, I said; I was barely recalling. At the time, I recounted what I knew.

Now, I would love to have these times back. Should I ever find myself in this situation again, should you be there or not, I will use the very depths of my being to feel you. I shall remember what it’s like to next to you. I shall command my thoughts to focus. To not forget your hand on my neck, your head on my shoulder.

A smile! Was that glance mine? Your head down; I see you laughing.
Perhaps she is remembering a funny moment with her sister? Maybe her father has reminded her of something he said? Perhaps.
Perhaps she is remembering when we kissed. Perhaps she has seen my contemplation, she is embarrassed.  Has she recalled the time we laughed? The time we held each other; talking, without looking. Perhaps.

The last time I spent with you, all was as I wished it would be. Your mother made us supper; both were very pleasant.

The sausage we ate- it was dry. This is a real mennonite meal, said Scott. Maybe I should have agreed. I did not know what the mennonites ate.  

Zoolander, said her sister. I shall go to the movie store, boyfriend in tow. I went to go with them, but you suggested I didn’t.

The player hummed with anticipation.

The movie was mediocre. The colors were ugly. The theme, too much of this world. I laughed at some scenes, but scolded myself for doing so. Why did I laugh at something I knew so much about? Was I nervous? Surely, men are not that funny.
But, you found it amazing; I did as well.

I was finished with having this space between us. I was done. Time to move. And so, I did.
I walked to you. You were talking to a friend. I don’t think you noticed.
We’re playing your favorite, I said. She nodded and told me she was excited.

Did you look at me then? Did our eyes meet when you were excited? Your friend was there, but did she know? Was she curious?

I walked away. At least I have said something. At least one more chip is gone from this wall. Soon, another brick.
something i did a long time ago. it's not your average poem, but I thought it fit the bill. thanks for reading!
Step inside we'll find you everything you adore
bibles at a dollar, you can sell for much more
blind men who can see you
and the Galilean shore
at the 'Jesus can save you' downtown superstore.

There is Moses
and the stoners
tablets that you wish for,
there is water we turn into wine
and miracles galore
all you have to do is walk right in through the door
at the 'Jesus can save you' downtown superstore.

We've got Israelites, Mennonites
and
Egyptians in stock
we have a burning bush and also
we have sheep by the flock,
everything that you desire and perhaps a bit more

Welcome to the,
'Jesus can save you' downtown superstore

— The End —