Poetry by Gerald Yelle

                           ditch Mingo CC



​Certain Networks Where the Decks are Stacked


Brenda says you have to forget the dissatisfied customers, the unkind lovers, the bosses who treat you like sheep. And don’t forget the times you yourself were mean, transgressive, a drug dealer liar and thief. Who you calling a thief? I say. Come off it, she says. You can’t sit for the pain sometimes. At other times it’s bearable, I say, even if it is ugly. You might never let it go she says. And you know it. I never thought I’d say as much, I say –but I can take it. And that’s a good thing, she says. It’s become your stock in trade. It keeps you afloat even when business is slow. Forget chapter 11: You got enough baggage to last you past ninety. Never mind what people say about aging. Do I look scared of getting old? I say. So it makes you sensitive to the cold, but it has its consolations. Silence, for one, she says. Don’t forget about silence. Did you know it was palpable? Ah that’s just a stupid trope, I say. But it’s not, she says. It’s something you can touch. When the ear has nothing to work on the other senses get sharper. You feel the air around you. You smell it –see and taste it. And the silence: you could almost wolf it down.      ​

Gerald Yelle has published in numerous online and print journals. His books include The Holyoke Diaries and Mark My Word and the New World Order (Pedestrian Press). He is a member of the Florence (MA) Poets Society. 

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