Western Poets
New Poets of the American West: Montana
Two poems by Montana poets featured in the new anthology "New Poets of the American West."By Jenny Shank, 9-08-10
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New Poets of the American West (Many Voices Press, 550 pages, $24) is a new poetry anthology edited by Lowell Jaeger, author of four collections of poetry and teacher of creative writing at Flathead Valley Community College in Kalispell. The anthology includes 450 poems by 265 poets from eleven western states. Today we feature the work of two Montana poets, “Chokecherries” by Melissa Kwasny and “Every Bit Helps” by Ed Chaberek.
Chokecherries
The Crow call this time of year the Black Cherry Moon
when the rose hips are blood-bright,
spattered on their overwrought stems, and the creek
calls so clearly in words almost our own
as we come sliding down the bank.
Last night, we covered the gardens in plastic.
The chickadees were back after their wide diet of summer.
We ate the last trout, its spine curved from disease.
So much can go wrong, I want to know
what you will promise me as our hands reach in and in
through the copper, the carmine leaves.
I know you are lonely, alone with your grief
for your parents who are not my parents, for your life,
which, despite all, is not my life. The cherries
are thick here, hanging in clusters, purple-black from frost.
It has started to rain and I am chilled by it.
Each day, we promise, we will talk of our fears
of intimacy, how we still expect to be hurt when we love.
You bring me a coat from the back of the truck,
but I want to stop our task now, to sit in the cab
of the truck while the gray spills, slick with thunder.
What if I kissed you there in depth.
After so many years, I can misunderstand the difference
between instinct and obligation, how my hand
continues to grasp the stems. Keats said
poems should come easy as leaves off the trees,
but see how they cling and wrestle with their ties.
And now, the sun shines. It is not this grace
I had imagined. When Keats said poems, I meant
love. The chokecherries roll easily
into my palm, then fall into the plastic bag that binds
my wrist. Over and over, until we have enough,
until our fingers are bruised with their dark juices.
Melissa Kwasny of Jefferson City, Mont. is the author of four books of poetry: The Nine Senses (Milkweed Editions, 2011), Reading Novalis in Montana (Milkweed Editions, 2008), Thistle (Lost horse Press, 2006), and The Archival Birds (Bear star Press, 2000), as well as editor of Toward the Open Field: Poets on the Art of Poetry (Wesleyan University Press, 2004) and co-editor of I Go To The Ruined Place (Lost Horse Press, 2009). Her book, Thistle, won the Idaho Prize in 2006. She is also a novelist.
“Every Bit Helps”
by Ed Chaberek
(Under the Orange Street Bridge,
Missoula, Montana)
On the under-bridge shelf, cocooned
in sleeping bags, overcoats, Salvation Army-
issue blankets: Willie “Railman,” Injun
Tom, Anthony. Willie’s first
to rise—he drank the least
of the day’s proceeds from
grocery sales. Bought a 30-
pack—Anthony had most. Willie
troubles at the wide-mouthed
gasps, pulls a cover up to
shield Anthony’s neck. “Okay?”
Tom wakes, “He okay?” Willie
shrugs, “No man drinks like that
and be okay.” Tom shakes out
of his huge overcoat, huge man, moves
down bank to the Clark Fork
River, removes a yellow stone, white
stone, black stone, red stone from
his jeans’ pocket, lifts each, bows
East—South—West—North, raises
open palms to the blue sky, lowers to
the green earth, rejoins Willie: “Prayed
the directions for him—Indian-style—
Lord’s Prayer too. Every bit helps.”
Ed Chaberek of Superior, Mont. has worked for the Missoula Salvation Army and in local schools. Ed’s chapbook, The Berkshire Polish Bar, was published in 1999 by Ibbetson Street Press. He is the author of a collection of poems about Missoula street people, The Market Under the Orange Street Bridge.
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