Why I hate My Dead Uncle Charles
Born into an era
of letter writers
I was encouraged
to send
them out.
But it was Charles,
the Merchant Marine,
got me addicted,
turned on the compulsion.
He made the world
first
with post cards
from ports of call,
photos of merchant vessels,
motley crews.
They were tiny teasers, hints
of future prologues; that became
typed, four page single spaced capsules
that read like novels
and changed tone
as we grew older:
iron ore
lost in Lake Michigan,
mail bags
to remnant mutineers on Pitcairn Island,
wall to wall rickshaws in Shanghai,
soggy shore leave in Rangoon,
island lust
in the South Seas
where the first mate gave it up
for a native girl, a hammock
on the beach,
hemp that smoked like opium.
people that didn’t know
what a hamburg was
even in their town of that name,
Persian pride, camels, tents, bangles, beads
and
the cook that lost a testicle
in a card game shoot-out
while they waited for malaria
to sweep the decks clean.
Of nights at sea
under heaving weather
I would read and roll,
left to right
like the carriage return
in his rhythm of the tales
that read
like Conrad’s ghosts.
But then they deserted me.
No longer intended
for my entertainment,
those little novellas
took a turn somewhere
as they off-loaded,
deep in the darkness,
tank parts to despots,
bandages and booze
to Korea,
moon-shot material
to Cape Kennedy,
props to Panama,
ammo and a package
to me in Vietnam
containing Ballantine’s Scotch,
canned beans and franks,
tins of mandarin oranges
in light syrup,
a letter:
smog
creeping down from L. A.
Queen Mary’s final berthing,
Aunt Ada’s failing heart,
his tottering legs and loss
of equilibrium,
retirement and shore duties
contained in a tired tin trailer
In Long Beach, California.
R.G.Glumm
April 1989
for
Captain Charles Benjamin Gilman
January 25, 1906 – July 3, 1983
R.G. Glumm also known as “Randy” is a poet and was the proprietor of Waystation Books in Lansing Michigan. The poem will appear in the forthcoming “Thorny Locust” - Spring 2013
I read this three times and each time I gleaned something new. I like this poem for it’s story but also it’s cadence.