March 6, 2025: John Hilden, "Hallowed Ground," "Stand-Up Guy," "Comedian," "Conscientious Objector," "At the Nursing Home"
HALLOWED GROUND
It was no big deal when mum
and gram invited me
to pick mushrooms at
the old locker plant...
Why has that day grown
so large in my mind?
Is this what happens
when you lapse
from what you believe
to be sacred, replacing it
with something less abstract
a bounty of white buttons picked
in the company of those you love the most?
STAND-UP GUY
A thought of you grazed my mind
as I stood on the curb
outside the video store...
It's not until I watch
a famous actor's turn
as CP sufferer
that something clicks
Holly, her name was
She lived with cousins
who wouldn't give
an inch to disability
I can still see the bliss
written on her face
as you reached for her hand
asking for the pleasure of a dance
COMEDIAN
Even as a kid you had the gift
I recall you sending up
the dentist for pinching
your salivary gland;
how, routine done,
you collapse into
the Morris chair
running your hand
along the slats
under the armrest
Years later, I marvel
as you work a crowd
your riposte
when heckled by a fan
Granddad's wit
has skipped a generation:
hand passing over
the gap where a slat was missing
CONSCIENTIOUS OBJECTOR
When my uncle returns
from Washington state
he begins cutting limbs
from the apple tree
in Grandma's side yard
I look on from
the screened-in porch
approving his husbandry
unaware the truth
of why he had to leave
has been hidden from me
Later on, after he's gone
the story comes out
of the stand he took
the sentence he served
No wonder, he returned
like an avenging angel
denied the support
his fortitude deserved
divesting the tree of its limbs
AT THE NURSING HOME
As aunt gazes across the street
she wonders what became
of the wind-blasted trees
that clung to the ridge
as she & Elmer did
in the old hotel
at the end of Main
for so many years
How is it the cliff
once so forbidding
has been bulldozed
smoothed over
replanted with grass?
Its grandeur is that
of a fallen giant peering off
into the sky with sightless eyes
John Hilden is a transplanted Wisconsinite who's spent most of his life in the U.P. In addition to poetry, he has written a novella and a collection of short stories. He lives in Marquette with his wife, Carolyn, and their cats, Myrtle and Oro. He is a Yooper.
It was no big deal when mum
and gram invited me
to pick mushrooms at
the old locker plant...
Why has that day grown
so large in my mind?
Is this what happens
when you lapse
from what you believe
to be sacred, replacing it
with something less abstract
a bounty of white buttons picked
in the company of those you love the most?
STAND-UP GUY
A thought of you grazed my mind
as I stood on the curb
outside the video store...
It's not until I watch
a famous actor's turn
as CP sufferer
that something clicks
Holly, her name was
She lived with cousins
who wouldn't give
an inch to disability
I can still see the bliss
written on her face
as you reached for her hand
asking for the pleasure of a dance
COMEDIAN
Even as a kid you had the gift
I recall you sending up
the dentist for pinching
your salivary gland;
how, routine done,
you collapse into
the Morris chair
running your hand
along the slats
under the armrest
Years later, I marvel
as you work a crowd
your riposte
when heckled by a fan
Granddad's wit
has skipped a generation:
hand passing over
the gap where a slat was missing
CONSCIENTIOUS OBJECTOR
When my uncle returns
from Washington state
he begins cutting limbs
from the apple tree
in Grandma's side yard
I look on from
the screened-in porch
approving his husbandry
unaware the truth
of why he had to leave
has been hidden from me
Later on, after he's gone
the story comes out
of the stand he took
the sentence he served
No wonder, he returned
like an avenging angel
denied the support
his fortitude deserved
divesting the tree of its limbs
AT THE NURSING HOME
As aunt gazes across the street
she wonders what became
of the wind-blasted trees
that clung to the ridge
as she & Elmer did
in the old hotel
at the end of Main
for so many years
How is it the cliff
once so forbidding
has been bulldozed
smoothed over
replanted with grass?
Its grandeur is that
of a fallen giant peering off
into the sky with sightless eyes
John Hilden is a transplanted Wisconsinite who's spent most of his life in the U.P. In addition to poetry, he has written a novella and a collection of short stories. He lives in Marquette with his wife, Carolyn, and their cats, Myrtle and Oro. He is a Yooper.
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