(moo cows)
And so the King did not die
That night,
Nor any other night
That my Grandmother June
And my Great-
Hunchbacked
Uncle Leo played poker
And drank whiskey,
Dead and alone
Downstairs in the kitchen.
It was years before I learned
That my grandmother June's
First and only king,
James,
Was shot on patrol in 1944,
While making Western Pennsylvania
Safe for unemployed coal miners
And alcohol salesmen.
So one night I went downstairs,
And played penny poker with my
Grandmother June,
And my late, Great-
Hunchbacked
Uncle Leo,
And this time the King was spared
By a grandson
Who knew
The
Score...
October 1997
Michael Pollick's Questions:
Here is a submission for possible critique entitled 'Kill the King,
Leo'
I plan to submit this poem to a few markets, and need some professional
advice and criticism. My biggest question is Does the 'explanatory'
section at the end of the poem detract from the first stanzas? Does
anything pull the reader's focus? Thank you for the opportunity to
share this work.
Correspond with Michael Pollick at
phaedrus65@hotmail.com
with your ideas about this poem.
The Albany Poetry Workshop