Poetry By Alise Versella

Don O'Brien CC




Grand Funk Railroad Covers the Locomotion

My father used to sit on his wooden stool 
Show us how he could blow smoke rings with his cigar
I remain fascinated by this smoker’s trick
The smell of tobacco comforting and nostalgic
Lingering like memory every time
I enter dad’s garage
The cool and smooth concrete floor
All the tools like sharp teeth
Don’t touch, and don’t walk in here without shoes on your feet

As I grew older, I was pleased
To have my own shelf for turpentine stained brushes
A workspace shared
             Begrudgingly of course

My father would sit on his stool and watch us
Teach us how to criss-cross the jump rope
Pump compressed air before we took off down Cedar on our bikes
             What a hassle he made it seem
             To roll out the machine
             Such a pain in the ass
That’s the way my dad does everything, begrudgingly
Huff and puff but do it anyway
Now it’s all turned against him

The sharp tools, clawing monsters toppling over
Toppling him
Blood stains busted eye
Shattering the illusion of
“I can work like this forever”
Quit smoking cigars for fear of mouth cancer

What can we do but watch our parents age
And all their anger deflate
Like a bike tire
Rolled out from the backyard barn
To hook up to a machine that breathes

My grandfather needed an oxygen tank his last years
I was terrified when he asked me to switch it on 
My body balking from the sound of its otherworldly hum
Thinking I’d step on the tubing, do it wrong

What I think I miss most is the sound of the compressor
Working in the garage
The sounds of tinkering, Grand Funk, the clinging smoke
Wrapping its way across band posters, 
               blacklight posters, 
                            Kinski and her serpant
The sound of the garage door opening 
While he watched us play in the driveway
With our neighbor Sara and her Skip-It 
Sara moved away
Now, so have we
My father does less tinkering
The only sounds of the locomotion being 
The rumble of table trains



​


St. Vincent
For Vinnie Geressy

My first image of man
Black beards and tan
Skin. Soft brown eyes
Callused hands: Grease stained 
Orange GoJo scent

It’s the straining veins 
Working
Over steel pots of ditalini 
Pizza stones dusted with cornmeal
Overhead kitchen bulbs crowning them 
Like renaissance gods paint light
Caravaggio’s saints come to life

Cutting weeds back from the houses built
For gardens and flowerbeds
These houses they made, marble laid floors
Orchards of fruit
Swing-sets and a child calling out, “Lookie, look”
Higher and higher up her little legs push forth
Chickens run around these yards of toil
Where fireworks get set off 
We eat Tootsie Rolls from the corner store
We ask for more and are never denied

He never tried
Retiring, continued to work on cars 
You were forced to, didn’t realize that was even a choice 
Because my first idea of man is a man who does not rest
Who does not allow himself to rest
Until the heart says stop
Says perish
Did you enjoy it enough? Life
When your best friend dies before their time do you lament 
That maybe you broke your back and for what?
Or do you look around at the yard filled with the echo of little girls
And think
I did it for them and it was worth
The busted knuckles and hands that have “trouble holding the knife,”
We joke at dinner time

You once complained “Miggy’s been dying for 20 years” and then he finally did
You are the last man standing in the remaining yard of toil
And the kitchen bulbs crown you like a crown of laurel
The great masters “saw the angel in the marble and carved until he was set free”

Saint of car mechanics
Saint of DIY and never stop
Saint of pride in this plot that’s mine
Hard work
Father
Friend

You are not a martyr, this is not quite the end 
This is where you let the brush and chisel rest
Take a step back 
Look at the chiaroscuro
Balance of the dark and light
The way you are so alive
The angel free from his prison of marble

​


Alise Versella is twice nominated for the Pushcart, a Best of the Net nominee and the International Impact Book award winner for her latest collection Inaccurate Histories (Golden Dragonfly Press, 2025). She has been longlisted for the Sappho Prize and Shortlisted for Glossy Planet Magazine's theme challenge. Published widely online and in print she was a panelist at the IASA conference and guest speaker at Trenton High school. She can be found with a gin and tonic and a good book or at www.aliseversella.com.