The Jester 2012
The Jester 2012
by William Merricle
This is a joke
No longer.
Hope’s bare knee
Depresses the back of my neck.
She roars, are you going to stay there all night?
This isn’t a joke.
Yes, the schmo in my blood
And I agree I should be punished.
Hope whispers, let’s go somewhere and fuck death.
I don’t know what to do
Because this isn’t a joke.
I’m not sure who the jester is, but let’s say it’s Hope. Let’s also say that the narrator has some mortal disease and the fool (schmo) in him thinks he deserves it. This puts him in a nonplus position because Hope is telling him to go “fuck death.” And since death isn’t a joke for him, then Hope is the fool.
I always appreciate the work of the Merricle Man. It’s the type of poetry that feels simple and accessible at first, but upon further readings the depth really shines. That being said, there isn’t a whole lot to this piece, and there isn’t a whole lot not to like. Hope may be a fool, but she is a persistent and forceful fool.
What’s interesting in this piece is the contrast of two points of view. You have what seems a modern day Hamlet and Hope. Of the two, I’d say that Hope has it more together. After all, maybe it is a joke… whatever it is.