KETARI,
THE SHELTERED CHILD
Beautiful
thing!
Dr.
Williams riffs
breaking
through
young-man-no-mind
recall,
one,
Immortal
one
of them
Beautiful
thing!
Beautiful
thing!
going
over the Falls
by
the old reform school
Beautiful,
beautiful thing.
Bashert
kernel
of gold
slipped
into Ketari’s
mitten
last night
at
the Shelter
under
a foot of new snow
Ketari,
a
year-and-a-half
warm-wrapped
Easter-bunny
jammies
between
Mom
and Grandma
seated
on folded
bench
table
Bashert
from Zev
A
silver dollar
slipped
in
with
new mittens
yarn
from all colors
of
the rainbow
shining
light
into
old canvas Army tent
a
single string
of
lights
illuminating
chile
and cornbread
after
new snowfall
15
record inches
and
cold hard love
Hard
gold to love
Dr.
Williams wrote
a
mother’s milk
Beautiful
thing!
Hard
gold to love
So
beautiful
this
finding
this
Zev-poem
this
bashert
one’s
destiny
and
soulmate
this
man walking
incognito
with
a satchel
full
of poems
I knew they were there
I
did I knew it
I
didn’t know
they
were there for me
Didn’t
know that
until
tonight
tucking
them
into
the child’s
pocket
of mittens
at
the shelter
new
mittens
gold
and silver
plated
yarn
sparkling
Jim
Bodeen
12
February 2019
JYPSY
ROZE AND THE RANGER
Jypsy
Roze, Get it, she says, I do outreach at the shelter. Can’t tell you where
they’re at. We go out just after dark trying to get them to come in. Last few
mornings it’s been 6 degrees. It’s cold, but in the three camps, there are
survivalists, and they help others survive. I leave a bag of food
hung
on the tree for the Ranger. He is a Ranger. He don’t want to be found. I write
him notes.
He’s
afraid to come in. He don’t want to be found yet. He writes notes. I write
back. Last week he asked me my name. Jypsy Roze. Get it?
Jim
Bodeen
12
February 2019
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