All the way from Reno, Nevada, Brian Rihlmann presents three poems that dig into the quotidian and retrieve from within its uncertain confines the greater meaning of a life lived.
THE SECRET
many men are plagued with a
secret gnawing fear, that their
lives have been wasted. they
hear it faintly like rats in the walls,
termites in the cellar. you have only
to question the value of this world,
this order that they boast of having
built, to discover if he that
stands before you is of this type.
he will inflate himself and raise
his voice. he will deliver a sermon
on the value of a squandered life, of
fealty to tradition, of duty towards
sacred abstractions, elusive as snipe.
he will say to you— go forth, young
man, and do likewise. and smile
goddamn it! smile that I may
sleep at night…
TELLING THE TRUTH IS UNTHINKABLE
am I? am I really free?
when I’m hijacked every other moment
when a thousand times a day
a pair of scaly old hands
yanks the wheel from my grasp
steers me off the road
through a ditch
and into the middle of a field
where I sit, confused
spinning my tires in mud
up to the floorboards
wondering what just happened—
of course now I look
and it’s just my hands here
aIl that’s left
is to pound the dashboard
“Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!”
and after, to sit in silent despair
concocting a story
for the tow truck driver
a deer, maybe
LESSONS TOO WELL LEARNED
we learn some lessons
too well
from all our many fathers
like how to flog ourselves
for mistakes
and numb the sting
by flogging others for theirs
and so on
how to numb THAT sting
at the bar after work
and keep a straight face
as we toss back shots
until we can, finally,
laugh at everything
at anything
we learn too well
from all they say and do
and later in life
if we awaken
we learn
from what they did not
say and do
from what they buried
beneath tombstone faces
their zombies claw
the backs of our eyes
and our lips tremble
