Double
Patrick T. Reardon
Denmark Jones had a swan mother and
the look of a startled raven.
Levers were pulled for
his summer city sewer job.
He studied the book of two lizards,
creators of plants and animals,
living things to eat and not eat
according to tenets.
Even when walking forward, Denmark
was backing away from the throne.
He knew himself to be a shadow.
East star, west star, he
studied the book of the trickster,
last born of all creation, breaking a path
across city streets in the symphonic blizzard,
seller of birthright for red stew,
buyer of 12 sons, a daughter and a
wrestling match at the ladder.
It is true that Denmark was the
son of sky and soil.
It is true that the twin tripped Denmark on
that August firefly night, the white scar on
the knee now still.
It is true Denmark was born grieving.
Patrick T. Reardon
1.26.26
This poem originally appeared in Trampoline, Issue 27.
Written by : Patrick T. Reardon
For more than three decades Patrick T. Reardon was an urban affairs writer, a feature writer, a columnist, and an editor for the Chicago Tribune. In 2000 he was one of a team of 50 staff members who won a Pulitzer Prize for explanatory reporting. Now a freelance writer and poet, he has contributed chapters to several books and is the author of Faith Stripped to Its Essence. His website is https://patricktreardon.com/.