Mr. Wilson Had a Seahorse
Tim Yost Wore a Sailor Suit
Having the Croup in 1979
on the corner of his desk
he told me i walked like a duck
flapping his wings
in front of the class
to illustrate his point
he made my friend mark piss himself
instead of letting him go to the bathroom
after he started to cry
even after his father died
mark refused to tear up
because he didn’t want anything
running down his face
that reminded him
of saltwater.
& had physical therapy
in the same room as me
he was so fat
that when they threw a ball at him
it would just bounce off his stomach
he would just giggle
jollier than santa claus
at the first sight
of a snowflake in winter
he’d talk about fishing trips
he’d never get to go on
his father always said one day
i’d struggle to understand him
he came into this world
a few months early
just like me
we were all shoved into a single room
no matter what your issue was
on fridays they made popcorn
salted & placed into brown paper bags
& we watched the same movie
on a reel to reel projector
almost every single week
the hero wasn’t like any of us
he could go fishing anytime he wanted
& could swing words
always easy to understand
like a sword
on his tongue.
meant that i couldn’t yell
not even on the inside
only whoop like a bird
with my underdeveloped lungs
trying to escape
the trailer park even then
as the knack sang
on the radio
about things more precious
than air.
John Dorsey lived for several years in Toledo, Ohio. He is the author of several collections of poetry, including Teaching the Dead to Sing: The Outlaw's Prayer (Rose of Sharon Press, 2006), Sodomy is a City in New Jersey (American Mettle Books, 2010), Tombstone Factory, (Epic Rites Press, 2013), Appalachian Frankenstein (GTK Press, 2015) Being the Fire (Tangerine Press, 2016), Shoot the Messenger (Red Flag Press, 2017), and Letting the Meat Rest (Spartan Press, 2017). He is the current Poet Laureate of Belle, MO. His work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. He may be reached at archerevans@yahoo.com
