ditch,

the poetry that matters

Toshimitsu Kareishu

Toshimitsu Kareishu was born in Kyoto, Japan and raised in Toronto, Canada. The owner/operator of a new art shop, he now writes from Summerside, Prince Edward Island.

 

,

 

The trip from Detroit to Campobello Island was a short one

Or at least truncated

By the slumber induced by packing tape and plastic and Styrofoam

Suppressing me within a cardboard womb

To be revealed to Mrs. Roosevelt

As a perfect thing for mixing drinks

Although I assure you

I can also puree

But no such thing is required

For Haitian libations

Which Mrs. Roosevelt would have made

And then would not drink

 

It was 1958

And I returned with her to Hyde Park

Doing much the same thing

Or nothing at all

 

Between rituals for a dead president

And his widow

I would dream in the cupboard

Of becoming the president of a factory

That would process chicken patties

For sixty percent of North America

 

I curried the money of Mrs. Roosevelt

And some folks from Sunbeam

And created a new factory that turned chicken bones

And ammonium hydroxide

Into a lovely paste breaded by two hundred workers

Then consumed from Phoenix to Nantucket

 

They were gummed by toddlers and the elderly

One could see a cradle-to-the-grave partnership

Just a man and his chicken patty

 

Curiously

 

I lost my love for life

I gambled away my earnings

On blackjack and poker

I even lost my prime stock portfolio

To a kid playing whack-a-mole

At a state fair

I retired to Campobello Island

And paddled around in a boat made from a painting

So much wood lathing to so much tarred canvas

A Cassatt-turned-coracle

With Jeremiad Rashbag

A yard sale Xylophone

We aimlessly floated on the water

Devoid of reason or purpose

Playing blackjack with an incomplete deck of cards

From the Seattle World’s Fair

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                                                                                                               June 23, 2012