poetry

a sort of forever

a poem by jacob berg

there’s a sort of forever in the voice
booming pronouncement over
the car-pocked apocalypse, a
considered staccato, a
throw,
a catch. this man i saw ginsoaked
doing cannonballs off the curb, he were
all whirlybird he told me
where’d the grass go?
how’s the whole ground grey?
how’s these buildings go so high and
hard cash every brick but
we ain’t got none? son you ever
bite your tongue and get
beat for spitting blood? son you ever
live an old life in a new world go
numb while days outpace ya? well
i says to him i says yeah,
i heard about a sort of forever in
my very own bones, how my joints
still creak the ghetto frost, how
they’re coming for someone who’s
coming for someone who’s
coming for someone who’s
coming for me. i says to him i says
ya see them ah terrana
blue jays yestaday? that uh,
whatsisface that
gu-rare-o kid, boy that’s
some ballplayer huh? and i sit here
yappin, my slim schnoz and
your pale cheeks,
dream about becoming
traditions of a new world. hell
with a good enough eye and
a quick enough bat i bet
we could stagger through any age.