Two Poems by Lisa Stice
Lisa Stice
Routines fall into cadence, but still, / truth has a roguishness about it—
A Long War
for Sophia Thoreau
Those martial stains seemed as far away as
Jupiter or even Pluto, as many years back as
our memories allowed us to remember which
always seems so long ago now at our little post
under the elm tree, in the shade where we
like to believe we are on high ground past history
but I have a piece of poetry to read to you:
Death is not a singular
experience—headstones
are not quiet and smooth
and green with moss—
trumpets do not sing
the fame of trenches
filling up with the weedy
dead—and the grunts
will say we lost one hell
of a lot of people—and
the generals will say—
our casualties had been
high—and a few tales of
outstanding bravery will
make it into high school
history books—and teens
will think they have a
fairly clear picture of sun
and rain and dew on our
side—while a man who
begins wars from behind
a desk will sedulously
cultivate another—while
everyone else will not
want to think about it,
will say I can’t even
imagine—
Yes, a poem is a comforting thing to have,
a very friendly thing to have.
* Sophia Thoreau (1819-1876; United States): collaborator and editor of Henry David Thoreau’s works (she was the primary editor for all of his posthumous publications), artist (including the original title page of Walden), naturalist, gardener, abolitionist, and teacher; sister of Henry David Thoreau
* some words borrowed from Walden, “The Bean Field” (“the trumpet that sings of fame,” “these martial stains seemed as far away as,” “the elm tree tops,” “singular experience,” “sedulously cultivating another,” “a long war,” “sun and rain and dews on their side,” “filling up the trenches with the weedy dead,” “our little post,” “a fairly clear picture,” “high ground,” “past history,” “lost one hell of a lot of people,” “our casualties had been high,” “tales of outstanding bravery,” “I have a piece of Poetry to read to you,” “they didn’t want to think about it,” “It’s a comforting sort of thing to have,” “was a very friendly thing to have,” “quiet and smooth and green”
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Behind the Beat
for Sheila Wingfield
Routines fall into cadence, but still,
truth has a roguishness about it—
stepping out of rhythm, tossing back
a few in the middle of the night—
You want something so badly, so
completely that you fail to complete
a circle of friends or poem after poem
put aside from the shock of war’s end—
However it’s cooked, food goes down
slowly with a side of lacking conversation—
This is how you learn to communicate
like a staccato of ammunition, then silence
until you move like a cloud across the sun,
and the sun is far, far in the distance then—
Routines fall into a different cadence, but still,
truth will always have that roguishness about it.
* Sheila Wingfield (1906-1992; Irish, born in England): poet (several collections including A Cloud Across the Sun, A Kite’s Dinner and Beat Drum, Beat Heart) and memoirist (Real People and Sun Too Fast)
* a line borrowed from the title A Cloud Across the Sun
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Lisa Stice is a poet/mother/military spouse. She is the author of two full-length collections, Permanent Change of Station(Middle West Press, 2018) and Uniform (Aldrich Press, 2016), and a chapbook, Desert (Prolific Press). While it is difficult to say where home is, she currently lives in North Carolina with her husband, daughter and dog. You can learn more about her and her publications at lisastice.wordpress.com, facebook.com/LisaSticePoet, and twitter.com/LisaSticePoet.