Prompt: Write a poem with a single word as the title, in which our understanding of that word shifts by the end of the poem.
Note from the series editor, Katie Dozier: “The brilliant economy of language in ‘Credit’ helps this poem knock on our door with authenticity. James further weaves us into the narrative with bold images, such as the upside down Yellow Pages and the cotton entrails of the cushions. When the dialogue hits and is allowed to hang in the air without much exposition, we too feel the slap, which reverberates with the transformative title.”
“At the Forty Winks Motel” by David JamesPosted by Rattle
David James
AT THE FORTY WINKS MOTEL
after James Tate
“What’s in the briefcase?” Sheila asked as she unbuttoned her blouse. “Oh, nothing,” I said. “It’s not nothing,” she said, “or else you wouldn’t have brought it here.” She unhooked her bra and slid her jeans to the floor. “I was going to surprise you,” I said. I was naked except for my socks. “I like surprises,” she said, turning to brush her teeth. I loved the curves in her hips as she faced away from me, running her fingers through her hair and spitting into the sink.
When Sheila got into bed with me, I put the briefcase on my lap. “Here it is,” I said, opening the case. “Portable darkness.” The room went dark. Completely dark. “Wow,” she said. “Where did you get this?” “On the dark web, of course. It was the last one.” “That’s kinda sexy,” she whispered. I felt her body snuggle up against mine as I set the briefcase gently on the side table. “As long as it’s open, we’ll have utter darkness around us. No matter what.” Sheila kissed my neck, ending with a little tongue lick. “Even in broad daylight?” she asked. “Yes,” I said. Sheila ran her left hand over my chest. “Even at the beach?” “Absolutely,” I said. She wrapped one of her smooth legs over both of my legs. “Even at church?” I think I said yes; I’m not sure because it was dark, and I couldn’t see, but I could feel.
And let me tell you, nothing feels better than portable darkness.
David James: “It’s interesting to see what you read influence your work. I read ‘Three Tall Women’ by Albee, and then I write a short play called ‘Three Small Men.’ I read about the holocaust and somehow those images begin to appear in my poems. I read Ghost Soldiers by James Tate, and I find myself writing these short prose poems. Inspiration? Imitation? Jealousy? I prefer to think of it as ‘standing on the shoulders’ of our heroes.”
“Bee Sting in the Eye” by James ValvisPosted by Rattle
Ekphrastic Challenge, August 2019: Editor’s Choice
Image: “Thai Bees” by Kim Tedrow. “Bee Sting in the Eye” was written by James Valvis for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, August 2019, and selected as the Editor’s Choice.
Comment from the editor, Timothy Green: “Though clearly inspired by Kim Tedrow’s collage, James Valvis transcends the ekphrastic project in a way few others have, pricking its way into the heart of art itself. Go big or go home. Each line is as sharp as it is weighty. I’ve read this poem dozens of times and never get bored.”
James Valvis: “When I saw this story, surely overshadowed by the hurricane news and whatever people are worked up about politically, I thought to myself that some things are better left where they are. And then I thought of The Blob. And then I thought of those hair gels the girls back in the ’80s used—and maybe some still do. And then I thought about how old we have all gotten. And then I thought, well, I’m sure some people are trying to save the world with their poems, especially when it relates to the news, but I have more conservative literary ambitions. I just want to draw out the humanity in us all.” (web)
James S. Proffitt: “I’ve earned paychecks as a truck driver, furniture store owner, jail guard, police officer and, recently, carpet installer. I’m now a laborer which leaves much more space in my head for poems. Thank God for simple, exhausting work …”
