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"Bill Resurrected" & "Congratulations" by Josh Gaydos



Bill Resurrected

just a day after

hearing of his passing

I saw Bill at the liquor store

tonguing a toothpick,

signing contracts in the air


it was a worthy attempt

to get this over with

at empire’s end


caught in the mouth

and hanging out

‘neath the corner guillotine


it was whispered myth, his death,

there was a rock yet to push

out front the tomb, up the hill

he stood like folded paper

about to bend again,

to be reborn again

on the bench brown bagging


and just after Mary wipes his feet with her hair, he’s stumbling through the daytime, seeing by the world’s light


if we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him,

they’ll gather ‘round in worship,

they’ll expedite the end


so I take time to appreciate this morning with a Mexican Coke

and an ice cream sandwich,

smiling



Congratulations


arriving at island’s end

the duck pond ducks

have made a friend in me,

having forgiven me

for making an omelette

from their eggs

in the spring


most days I unhitch

the two-person swan boat

and pedal in a circle

while my face wavers in the pond


most days I fish for every meal

and pray for forgiveness

for the pain that I’ve caused,

that I’m causing when reeling up

their auburn eyes


even now, with my beard grown

to the point that people keep their distance,

I do not feel much has changed,

I cannot say just what

has kept me through the nights

with the lights from the lampposts,

the science museum

and the towers

detracting from the aurora


I’ve told the ducks about

my wife taking the tables

and how I was sprawled

on the ground eating ramen

reading by candlelight

until law enforcement

spun the deadbolt


I’ve told them how special I was

and after carving my face

in the ancient dirt, they pulled

the worms from it


they and I know that

no angel is appearing

in a North Face Jacket

or Patagonia cap

unless it is an angel

of displacement


we all laughed

when I told them about how I

drove the retired teacher

to his DUI case that morning

a few weeks before joining them

on this island,

it was that drive,

that dust and snow whipping

in the dark,

giving way to sunrise

in the upper valley

when I realized

all I had gained

could get lost with the rest of it


it was his snoring in the backseat,

it was the cadence of the cattleman’s prayer at breakfast,

the open eyes of their adopted child

meeting mine, with the rest in reverence,

I thought to make a face, give a sign

that their family’s view was righteous

but altered, that it was not quite right,

their need for demarcation meeting

their vision of the earth arriving perfect,

their need to mold children to a form

that each selected or born before had

cracked in some way when congealing


but it was these pious folks who befriended

the sinner next to me

like a homeschooled kid finding

a mastodon tooth,

like they brought in the

fresh eggs of their chickens each morning,

like they rented out bulls and sows

with tedious shipment instructions,

and that morning’s eggs were good


but now the time has come

to give the ducks some wisdom

before

a final jump out of my skin

for a swim


today I must tell these ducks,

my friends,

that the plan to turn

into a monument

isn’t working out,

that I must paddle this fading swan

from my overextended infatuation

with escape and face myself

without ripples,

that I must find the man

where Monaco meets Colfax

with the cardboard

behind his wheelchair

reading every disease

yet to kill him


I must reach him

before he is done dancing

beneath sunspots,

I must give him my name,

my dreams and my car

with the windshield cracked

in the shape of an eyelash

fallen on the pavement,

and I’ll park before six o’clock

in the middle of

the longest commercial street in

these United States,

and we’ll trade spots

and as he takes the wheel

I’ll tell him, finally as me,

that it all will end,

but that there is still a warranty

on the engine,

I’ll tell him

to try and make it home

before it gives




Josh Gaydos (he/him) is a self-taught poet who currently resides in Colorado. He has been published in Barren Magazine, Door Is A Jar Literary Magazine, South Broadway Ghost Society and The Lettered Olive. Follow him @jgwrites22.

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