Steve Halle is a poet, teacher, and Ph.D. candidate at Illinois State University in Normal, Illinois. His poetry and critical work has been published in various journals including Jacket, Cordite, PFS Post, moria, Milk Magazine, OCHO. He edits the online journal Seven Corners and blog at Fluid / Exchange. His first book Map of the Hydrogen World was released by Cracked Slab Books in 2008.
Obedients
At Our Lady of the Angels Catholic Elementary, Chicago,
a fire claimed the lives of 92 school children and three nuns
on December 1, 1958. Firemen found 24 children
at their desks in one room, their school books open before them.
--Newspaper Clippings, (www.olafire.com)
smoke? Did she hear a censer clang
off pitch like a broken bell,
a dove beat wings against the window?
Sister's hand recoiled when she touched
the brass doorknob. She fell to her knees.
Was the intense heat redeeming,
or was Lucifer breathing light through the window?
Kneeling in agony, she stared at the ceiling,
smoothed her ornate habit and wiped
beads from her forehead. She calmly
delivered orders: The children
obeyed, even as their lungs choked
on hellish smoke. Sister whispered
while flames devoured the wooden door.
Deep in prayer, she did not look at the children
who put their heads down on clasped
hands, closed their eyes, and burned.
notes toward a fiction of a fiction
i sleep with a small-voiced woman,
all nose, throat, intent moans.
no! i hold her nervous hand.
no! i gaze at her face, palely lit
above the rim of my glass
(Sapphire, Tonic, sweat
runs down the sides)
across the stainless steel bar
i never gaze.
instead, i finger dents in her
car door stop-motioned
in ice time. cabin feverish,
i check the locks while
she drinks rubied shiraz
inside The Matchbox
(770 N Milwaukee)
with friends.
touch her car? never!
i stare at her torn-
edge, walleted picture
reminisce--skin tan
it tastes coconut-sweet,
whiskey sharp.
pictureless, i read in
a bookstore, her plain-Jane
name on a verbose page,
stop for a moment's
eyes-closed reverie--
press image into eyelids
open: a double turns
to take her dressed-up
curves blur out of sight.
Hi Simone, SO glad you wrote about Steve Halle's new book of poetry and posted some of his poems. He's a fine writer and lovely person. FYI - that's my painting - Perfect Pair - on the cover.
Regards, Lorraine Peltz