Patrick Trombly – Betsy

Re-emerging poet Patrick Trombly wakes us up and smears us with light and disarray with his postmodern poem “Betsy”. The narrator, presumably the namesake of the poem in some form or another, observes morning-lit fragmented surroundings while juggling setting, time, life, gratitude, and divinity. With engaging repetition reminiscent of Stein and Fosse, Patrick illuminates disorderly and familial surroundings before easing us into uncertainty and perhaps a return to slumber.

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Betsy

Eight-fifteen / the sun
paints the room orange // damn the torn shade // the
sun // it saturates the smoke / that snakes / its
way across the ceiling // the
smoke // it crawled out / from my nostrils / slithering //
this gray nightgown (part orange) // why should I /
exchange it for the dress / on the chair / and the stockings / on the
floor // the newspaper / and the tissues / make a
blanket / and the linen closet is so far / and I am cold //
the alarm // it startled me (it must have conspired with
the sun) // but it is so easy / to turn the alarm off // it must
exist / only to be turned off // I turn the
clock around / so that it faces / the picture / of
my sister / and me / when we were / children // we wore
matching raincoats // we were skipping / skipping / skipping /
through a puddle / under a heavy sky / in defiance of
the clouds // it can’t be Tuesday anyway / can it // not yet // the
clock says it is // but yesterday / it was Friday / and
the newspaper // the newspaper says Friday / so
yesterday / must have been Friday // and it couldn’t be Tuesday //
it couldn’t be Tuesday // it couldn’t be // it mustn’t be //
I need to think // I cannot think // I need to think // I need / to sleep //
thank God / for yellow / number / 10 //
thank God / for water

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• Gurdjieff and The Two Rivers
• Behind Me – dips Eternity – Emily Dickinson
• Pamela Wax – Capricorn Loses His Star
• Barry Casey – Wait Here