Under the River Go the Faces of Everyone I Have Ever Loved
I think the world broke a world record today
For the number of people in it who cried.
Iggy Pop cried, as did most of Greenland.
Five hundred babies cried at exactly 2:43 AM
And another five hundred at 2:44. The President
Has a secret room where he likes to go shed tears.
Not even the Secret service know about it.
What if I told you the President called me up
Crying. He did. I told him, Buck up, little tomato.
Talent scouts cried at the dearth of talent.
Frogs got the blues bad in the chemical bog.
Worst of all were the spilled milk drinkers
Who sobbed like it was the end of the world. It was.
When the devil cries, he sheds tears of real diamonds.
The contestant eliminated for making
A bland risotto cried, but thanked everyone
For the opportunity to cry. I got a surprise call
From my ex, who never calls, calling me in tears,
Something about her new husband’s prognosis.
You could hear him in the background, banging
Around, lumbering, swearing to anyone how he
Was going to the kitchen to make some goddam eggs.
That’s their secret passcode for baby, let’s fuck.
You cried that time your pearl of toothpaste fell
Off its toothbrush and landed in the pedestal sink,
And you cried that time your car hit a mama deer
And it’s gotten to the point like you and me and everyone
I know and even half-know, have been crying ever since.
John Loughlin
Copper Nickel
Under the River Go the Faces of Everyone I Have Ever Loved
John Loughlin
what it means
Here we are with the whole world in tears, the death of everyone we have ever loved.
I’m not sure what it means. Here’s a guess. Yeah, the stupid pop culture stuff we cry over like losing a reality cooking contest on tv is stupid and fake, but it’s not. It’s part of the general despair and sadness we are all feeling as we get the terminal diagnosis for ourselves and the planet.
why I like it
Dare I say it. This poem is funny. I mean, yes, I know it’s all about crying and everyone I know and half-know going under the river, but Iggy Pop? That’s funny. Buck up little tomato is really funny. I love how this poem can be both hilarious and devastating at the same time.
craft
So, on the one hand I’m a strong advocate for concrete details and on the other hand, magic realism delights me. Those babies, the president. . . the author is making these details up to convey the enormity of the whole world in tears.
I can imagine the author, journal in hand, pulling out random notes about the day the ex called, and a half remembered image of a pearl of toothpaste and letting them all find their way into this poem. I want to jam as much disparate stuff, as much real and unreal into one poem.