Featured Poet: Rick Kearns
Raven Rabbit Ram is proud to publish three pieces from Rick Kearns. This is the first publication for "Killer Cold" and "Artists for Spare Change." "Doc and Ellen" can be found in the 2018 chapbook The Dead Go Swimming.
Rick Kearns (aka Kearns-Morales) is a writer, teacher, and musician of Puerto Rican and European heritage from Harrisburg, Pa. His poems have appeared in over 70 literary publications, most in the US but a few in Ireland, UK, Puerto Rico, and Argentina. He was named Poet Laureate of Harrisburg in 2014. Kearns is also a freelance journalist. His author’s website is: rickearns.com
Killer Cold
Back in those days
I worked frontline
mh emergency crew
called in when mostly
poor or working class
people were snapping
or
had a psychotic break
or
they didn't want to handle
whomever
it was a day like this
killer cold, they said
I got the call
church across the street
trembling voice telling me
"he's just laying there"
and he was
older homeless guy
stretched out on the
sidewalk
facedown
who didn't quite
make it to the church's
backdoor the night before
I never found out
if they ever located family
I always think of him
when I hear the phrase
killer cold
I remember leaning down
and patting his shoulder
kneeling by him for a minute
killer cold
only happens
when no one else
who cares
is there
Artists For Spare Change
the young ladies
of Avignon
move slowly
down the stairs
and onto the square
by the hairy saxman
jamming on 2nd Street where
the old Spot used to be.
When they tore down
the original Spot
they discovered a
circle of grease with
a diameter of 30 feet.
Scientists and archaeologists
were called in to create
The Allnight Diner Museum.
Shopping cart Mary
was "re-located" to a
garage on the hill and
all the pawn shops
and adult theaters
were torn down to increase
the possibility of
proactive synchronicity.
Van Gogh's crows
fly en masse
out of windows of the
abandoned steel plant
downriver from
aggressive toupees and
their touch scream uphones
and artisanal gas chambers.
Rats, opossums, and ghosts
speaking 10 different languages
scamper and fly around
the old steel mill
still unreachable to the
robocalling vulture fund managers
who are eager to eat your children
and accept your master race card.
Doc and Ellen
the old lady is still there
sitting on a porch swing
long gone
smoking virginia slims
taking notes of cars
parking near our house
talking to
no one in particular
"I saw a blue car
I don't know that car
they're parked near your house"
ellen crime watch
through cigarette haze
78 yrs old
thick lens glasses
old time harrisburg
her dad built the houses
on this block
brick duplexes
black and white photo of ellen
young woman near rose bushes
our backyard
1939
her dad a carpenter
got to be a foreman
only one on a pennylvania dutch crew
who spoke english
built these brick houses
grew 6 rows of
sweet potatoes
in the lot
across the street
occupied by 2 houses now
put those spuds in a barrel
buried for freshness
ellen remembered
names of
famous harrisburgers
but what she knew
was office work
soda fountains
movies and
the 5 & dime downtown
then marrying Doc
Melvin D. Miller
MD Miller became
Doc
sheet metal worker
occasional sax player
roughneck
Doc showed up
at their wedding day
bruised and dirty
his one suit all screwed up
Told me later
He was
drinking pre wedding beers
and some joker decided
to make a crummy comment
about the bride to be
they rolled out into the
street, Doc said,
"I probably broke
somebody's windshield"
with the other guy’s head.
When we met Ellen
and Doc, they were
near the end of their tale.
Ellen chain smoking
most of the day
on the swing
on the porch
staring at whoever
drove by
only going inside
half hour before
Doc came home
from hanging at a
public golf course with
some old buds from the
VFW
ellen would
every time
latch the screendoor shut.
A few minutes later
the nightly pantomime
would begin
Doc trying to
open the door
"Goddammit woman
Open the goddamn door”
for a few minutes
on days when all
the windows were open
we could hear
Ellen chuckling then
saying "Who's there?"
OK, coming, coming"
Ellen and Doc
all on their own
Most of their friends
on the other side
Good neighbors like us
helping out
here and there
Ziza
my wife
cut Ellen's toenails for her
almost passing out
from the smell
Artie
next door
funny gay Artie
dying of AIDS
would play cards with
Ellen who once said
You know
that Artie
he's a funny one.
What's his story, Rick?
I told her
wasn't sure
maybe show business
not telling her
Artie had been famous
in Baltimore
for his Pointer sisters routine.
The years marched on
The cigs caught up
with Ellen
She went first
Doc inconsolable
Ziza made extra soup
Brought him over
for cookouts
turns out Doc
bought a microwave somehow
hundreds of cartons laying around
that I found
Doc checked out
not long afterwards
I moved his car
for a few days
until we found his
strange, estranged daughter
Creditors
started appearing at their
door, knocking and
knocking
mastercard finally finding
my phone number
called me almost begging
for someone to seize
turns out
doc owed mastercard
35,000 dollars
And I laughed so loudly
Mastercard
And the rest
Never called again
And Doc
left nothing
But debt
An old car
And fond memories.
Doc and Ellen
Gone and gone
Like old Harrisburg
Where a factory worker
And a secretary
Could have a nice house
In a nice neighborhood
Walking distance
to a union hall
And a church
And at least 4 bars
Doc and Ellen
working, yelling
dying in love
and in debt
memory
slow fade
slow
fade.