Everything Happens When You're Gone

Everything Happens When You’re Gone
i was three days into Grace
mostly Kelly
when the thin tenor told me
that the big reeds recruited you
for their band mark another win for them
loss for us
with bicentennial Schmidt’s in the back seat
all 24 dressed in mourning
we drove to vespers in the black Chrysler Imperial
also saved for such occasions
or Mardi Gras
F-minor sat stiffly in the second row of pews
and grieved your absence with a silence
i never knew she possessed
a famous skunk sang a cappella
in a nasal tone
all wind instruments, electronic and otherwise
had a day of remembrance
that lasted until Valentine’s Day
all the while the Archangel John sat
in the back resolving solos
on the back of a cheesesteak menu
Le Hinton

0 thoughts on “Everything Happens When You're Gone

  1. As with past H&H Le Hinton poems, ‘Alegria’ and ‘Prelude to a Kiss’, there is strong religious undertones and/or allusions in ‘Everything happens when you’re gone’ of a certain nature causing me to deduce that the writer is Catholic… and i’m guessing from the North? ..and a 40/50-something? ..per chance?
    i can’t emphasize enough how a good poem just sucks you in and you re-read and re-read getting something new everytime from a different angle. This poem does that to me.
    This poem is addressed to an essential member in a circle of friends who is absent [and not coming back (inferred)], abducted by the world from the world like so much in life. I didn’t get everything in poem (couldn’t figure ‘bicentennial Schmidts’s in the backseat’ for instance…perhaps these are beers or alcoholic beverage aged 25 years coming 24 to a case? …and drank in mourning of loss of this friend). Nevertheless, as with all poetry, i think the reader cannot get hung up too much when something doesn’t ‘click’ right away and should just read and absorb the poem like a sponge soaking up ambrosia nectar. Sometimes we get into this ‘fast food’ have-it-all-now frame of mind that makes us impatient and we want to be spoon-fed. I caught Princess Grace Kelly play on words right away though.
    Thanks Le Hinton, your poem got under my skin (good thing), and didn’t just bounce off my punk-ass exoskeleton! i look forward to next poem.
    By the way, editor managed to find pic of Black Chrysler Imperial…how cool is that? ..And also by the way, and i’m not necessarilly kissing ass here, I picked up copy of ‘Paris Review’ at bookstore this week and after 10 minutes reading poetry therein, resolved it would be a cold day in Hell before I preferred this academic pretentious drivel over our hardworking and imaginative H&H poets! Vive experimente my ardent avant-gardners! Dali to Breton: “…if i dreamed we made love, i would be obligated to record our most intimate positions…”

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