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Two poems from The Low Passions: Poems by Anders Carlson-Wee
Great Plains Food Bank and The Low Passions
The Low Passions - Poems book cover
Great Plains Food Bank
- The wind is in the trees again, and I’m thinking it’s a wonder
- the body can move. The way the mother at the Fargo food bank
- fingers a can of concentrated juice. The way the line keeps
- heaving forward. The way the child tugs the heavy skirt.
- My job is to look for the elderly, help them load. Like the guy
- who grew up in Oslo and is still trying to make it to Bergen.
- It’s a straight shot on the train, he says, but you have to be
- in Norway to catch it. I lift his meat and yogurt onto a cart.
- I wait as he chooses nine of the least bruised carrots.
- The trunk of his car has the smell of dried flowers, and his
- baguettes fit lengthwise easily. But before I help him lower
- himself into the driver’s seat, and before his hands pass over
- one another, turning into the northbound traffic, he tells me
- I’m young. Tells me it’s spring. Says I should be out of here,
- heading for Bergen. I know he’s right. I know he’s
- so goddamn right. I stand as still as I can as he leaves.
The Low Passions
- The Lord came down because God wasn’t enough.
- He lies on sodden cardboard behind bushes
- in the churchyard. Wrapped in faded red. A sleeping bag
- he found or traded for. Dark stains like clouds
- before a downpour. The stone wall beside him rising,
- always rising, the edges of stone going blunt
- where the choirboy climbs. He opens his mouth,
- but nothing goes in and nothing comes out.
- Like the sideshow man who long ago lost
- his right testicle to the crossbar of a Huffy.
- He peddles the leftover pain. The stitches clipped
- a week later by his father, the fiberglass bathtub
- running with color, the puffy new scar,
- the crooked look of the pitted half-sack.
- He tells me you only need one nut, and I want
- to believe him. I want to believe he can still
- get it up. I want to believe he has daughters, sons,
- a grandchild on the way, a wife at home
- in a blue apron baking. But why this day-old bread
- from the dumpster, this stash of hollow bottles
- in the buckthorn, this wrinkled can of Pabst?
- The Lord came down because God wasn’t enough.
- Because the childless man draws the bathwater
- and cries. Because the choirboy never sings
- as he climbs. Because the bread has all molded
- and the mouths are all open. Open to the clotting air.
- Homeless, anything helps. Anything. Anything you can
- spare. God bless you, God bless you, God bless. God,
- Lord God, God God, good God, good Lord very good God
Anders Carlson-Wee
Reprinted from The Low Passions: Poems by Anders Carlson-Wee. Copyright (c) 2019 by Anders Carlson-Wee. Used with permission of the publisher, W.W. Norton & Company, Inc. All rights reserved.
Anders Carlson-Wee is the author of the recently published The Low Passions (W.W. Norton, 2019). You can order his book and explore more of his work online at: www.anderscarlsonwee.com
Here's something you might be interested in.
Two poems from The Low Passions: Poems by Anders Carlson-Wee
Great Plains Food Bank and The Low Passions
Two poems from The Low Passions: Poems by Anders Carlson-Wee
Great Plains Food Bank and The Low Passions
The Low Passions - Poems book cover
Great Plains Food Bank
- The wind is in the trees again, and I’m thinking it’s a wonder
- the body can move. The way the mother at the Fargo food bank
- fingers a can of concentrated juice. The way the line keeps
- heaving forward. The way the child tugs the heavy skirt.
- My job is to look for the elderly, help them load. Like the guy
- who grew up in Oslo and is still trying to make it to Bergen.
- It’s a straight shot on the train, he says, but you have to be
- in Norway to catch it. I lift his meat and yogurt onto a cart.
- I wait as he chooses nine of the least bruised carrots.
- The trunk of his car has the smell of dried flowers, and his
- baguettes fit lengthwise easily. But before I help him lower
- himself into the driver’s seat, and before his hands pass over
- one another, turning into the northbound traffic, he tells me
- I’m young. Tells me it’s spring. Says I should be out of here,
- heading for Bergen. I know he’s right. I know he’s
- so goddamn right. I stand as still as I can as he leaves.
The Low Passions
- The Lord came down because God wasn’t enough.
- He lies on sodden cardboard behind bushes
- in the churchyard. Wrapped in faded red. A sleeping bag
- he found or traded for. Dark stains like clouds
- before a downpour. The stone wall beside him rising,
- always rising, the edges of stone going blunt
- where the choirboy climbs. He opens his mouth,
- but nothing goes in and nothing comes out.
- Like the sideshow man who long ago lost
- his right testicle to the crossbar of a Huffy.
- He peddles the leftover pain. The stitches clipped
- a week later by his father, the fiberglass bathtub
- running with color, the puffy new scar,
- the crooked look of the pitted half-sack.
- He tells me you only need one nut, and I want
- to believe him. I want to believe he can still
- get it up. I want to believe he has daughters, sons,
- a grandchild on the way, a wife at home
- in a blue apron baking. But why this day-old bread
- from the dumpster, this stash of hollow bottles
- in the buckthorn, this wrinkled can of Pabst?
- The Lord came down because God wasn’t enough.
- Because the childless man draws the bathwater
- and cries. Because the choirboy never sings
- as he climbs. Because the bread has all molded
- and the mouths are all open. Open to the clotting air.
- Homeless, anything helps. Anything. Anything you can
- spare. God bless you, God bless you, God bless. God,
- Lord God, God God, good God, good Lord very good God
Anders Carlson-Wee
Reprinted from The Low Passions: Poems by Anders Carlson-Wee. Copyright (c) 2019 by Anders Carlson-Wee. Used with permission of the publisher, W.W. Norton & Company, Inc. All rights reserved.
Anders Carlson-Wee is the author of the recently published The Low Passions (W.W. Norton, 2019). You can order his book and explore more of his work online at: www.anderscarlsonwee.com
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