Ian Ganassi
IN HER DREAM
               …that pause of space which I call “father”
Wasn’t necessarily what he or anyone made him out to be.
               Still, she ran away. They wished she hadn’t, because she mattered.
The secret of fathers is to make them what you want them to be.
               She was dressed in rags, bowing and dancing with a queen,
Who didn’t smell so great herself, and had an unpleasant complexion.
               But despite the garlic breath, she was after all a queen.
Their tango took them in many directions.
               …that pause of space which I call “father”
Was easily substituted with a mental image of the Duke.
               She ran away. They wished she hadn’t, because she mattered.
At least she didn’t leave everything behind—she took a book.
               She was dressed in rags, bowing and dancing with a queen,
This despite being “quite cured of seeking pleasure in society.”
               And even with her royal garlic breath, the queen was after all a queen.
She was neither a card nor a chess piece, but the real deal.
               In the dream, that pause of space which I call “father”
Was very simply getting in everybody’s way.
               She ran away. They wished she hadn’t, because it mattered.
The dapper mannerist said it was “all part of being ‘fey’.”
               She was dressed in rags, bowing and dancing with a queen.
Her father stood behind the starting gate, smoking a Pall Mall.
               But despite the queen’s garlic breath, she was after all a queen.
They ran away, hand in hand, before the ash could fall.
               In the dream, that pause of space which I call “father”
Lent neither a hand nor $200 to his son the waif.
               The waif’s girlfriend ran away. They wished she hadn’t, because she mattered.
His father said, “They make it nice.” He replied, “Don’t underestimate the mess they make.”
               She was dressed in rags, bowing and dancing with a queen.
There’s not much to say about something so outré.
               But despite her garlic breath, the queen was still a queen.
Everything will be fine, as long we can keep the soldiers at bay.
THE APPLE OF DISCORD
Accounts of the fall of Paris were burned in the streets of Troy, New York.
               This had me worried for a while, then I took a deep breath.
Release the hounds thereof, man the ramparts.
               Look back in anger, look back in shame.
A lesson in getting nowhere fast, without getting caught.
               Generally speaking, no one can see the dark side of the moon.
The behavior you started out faking has become part of your personality.
               Let’s get together again sometime soon.
And the metal numbers on telephone poles.
               This had me worried for a while, then I took a deeper breath.
Heave away my hearties, row row your boats.
               Look back in anger, look back in shame.
What a good boy am I.
               Generally speaking, no one can see the dark side of the moon.
We do things because we must, not because we want to.
               Let’s get together again sometime soon.
And whatever you do, don’t take your lay in coats, or quotes.
               This had me worried for a while, then I took a deep breath.
Something utterly trivial and of ultimate importance ruined my day.
               Look back in anger, look back in shame.
Can I switch name tags with you rich?
               Generally speaking, no one can see the dark side of the moon.
I know it’s a terrible thing to ask.
               Let’s get together again sometime soon.
Sometimes the best direction is to find the way out.
               This had me worried for a while, then I took a deeper breath.
Yessir, Mr. GI Bill, get out the Uzis.
               Look back in anger, look back in shame.
The windows continue absorbing your inflection.
               Generally speaking, no one can see the dark side of the moon (except the scientists).
Falling Glass Next Ten Miles.
               Let’s get together again sometime soon.
WANDERING DOWN
Take your time,
Take a letter, take it across town.
A letter framed in black,
Headed for the dead letter box.
Down in the valley it used to be better,
Cypress groves to wander about.
X marks the spot.
How’s your credit and all that rot?
Part of me feels that it’s too late.
But maybe it’s always been too late.
The day has had lots of practice
At persisting ‘til evening
When the shift changes.
Faced with extinction we did what we were told,
Or what we thought we were told.
It was difficult in the cold,
But waking we kept the candles lit.
And at the wake,
We ignored the warped relations,
For your information.
A tower of power, an observation tower.
The bread crumbs dropped, the picture cropped
So only the good parts show.
Ian Ganassi’s poetry, prose and translations have appeared in more than 100 literary magazines, including New American Writing, The Yale Review, and The American Journal of Poetry. Recent news includes poems forthcoming in Amp, Poetry Pacific and Bending Genres. His poetry collection Mean Numbers was published in 2016. His new collection, True for the Moment is due out in the fall of 2019 from MadHat Press.
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IN HER DREAM
               …that pause of space which I call “father”
Wasn’t necessarily what he or anyone made him out to be.
               Still, she ran away. They wished she hadn’t, because she mattered.
The secret of fathers is to make them what you want them to be.
               She was dressed in rags, bowing and dancing with a queen,
Who didn’t smell so great herself, and had an unpleasant complexion.
               But despite the garlic breath, she was after all a queen.
Their tango took them in many directions.
               …that pause of space which I call “father”
Was easily substituted with a mental image of the Duke.
               She ran away. They wished she hadn’t, because she mattered.
At least she didn’t leave everything behind—she took a book.
               She was dressed in rags, bowing and dancing with a queen,
This despite being “quite cured of seeking pleasure in society.”
               And even with her royal garlic breath, the queen was after all a queen.
She was neither a card nor a chess piece, but the real deal.
               In the dream, that pause of space which I call “father”
Was very simply getting in everybody’s way.
               She ran away. They wished she hadn’t, because it mattered.
The dapper mannerist said it was “all part of being ‘fey’.”
               She was dressed in rags, bowing and dancing with a queen.
Her father stood behind the starting gate, smoking a Pall Mall.
               But despite the queen’s garlic breath, she was after all a queen.
They ran away, hand in hand, before the ash could fall.
               In the dream, that pause of space which I call “father”
Lent neither a hand nor $200 to his son the waif.
               The waif’s girlfriend ran away. They wished she hadn’t, because she mattered.
His father said, “They make it nice.” He replied, “Don’t underestimate the mess they make.”
               She was dressed in rags, bowing and dancing with a queen.
There’s not much to say about something so outré.
               But despite her garlic breath, the queen was still a queen.
Everything will be fine, as long we can keep the soldiers at bay.
THE APPLE OF DISCORD
Accounts of the fall of Paris were burned in the streets of Troy, New York.
               This had me worried for a while, then I took a deep breath.
Release the hounds thereof, man the ramparts.
               Look back in anger, look back in shame.
A lesson in getting nowhere fast, without getting caught.
               Generally speaking, no one can see the dark side of the moon.
The behavior you started out faking has become part of your personality.
               Let’s get together again sometime soon.
And the metal numbers on telephone poles.
               This had me worried for a while, then I took a deeper breath.
Heave away my hearties, row row your boats.
               Look back in anger, look back in shame.
What a good boy am I.
               Generally speaking, no one can see the dark side of the moon.
We do things because we must, not because we want to.
               Let’s get together again sometime soon.
And whatever you do, don’t take your lay in coats, or quotes.
               This had me worried for a while, then I took a deep breath.
Something utterly trivial and of ultimate importance ruined my day.
               Look back in anger, look back in shame.
Can I switch name tags with you rich?
               Generally speaking, no one can see the dark side of the moon.
I know it’s a terrible thing to ask.
               Let’s get together again sometime soon.
Sometimes the best direction is to find the way out.
               This had me worried for a while, then I took a deeper breath.
Yessir, Mr. GI Bill, get out the Uzis.
               Look back in anger, look back in shame.
The windows continue absorbing your inflection.
               Generally speaking, no one can see the dark side of the moon (except the scientists).
Falling Glass Next Ten Miles.
               Let’s get together again sometime soon.
WANDERING DOWN
Take your time,
Take a letter, take it across town.
A letter framed in black,
Headed for the dead letter box.
Down in the valley it used to be better,
Cypress groves to wander about.
X marks the spot.
How’s your credit and all that rot?
Part of me feels that it’s too late.
But maybe it’s always been too late.
The day has had lots of practice
At persisting ‘til evening
When the shift changes.
Faced with extinction we did what we were told,
Or what we thought we were told.
It was difficult in the cold,
But waking we kept the candles lit.
And at the wake,
We ignored the warped relations,
For your information.
A tower of power, an observation tower.
The bread crumbs dropped, the picture cropped
So only the good parts show.
Ian Ganassi’s poetry, prose and translations have appeared in more than 100 literary magazines, including New American Writing, The Yale Review, and The American Journal of Poetry. Recent news includes poems forthcoming in Amp, Poetry Pacific and Bending Genres. His poetry collection Mean Numbers was published in 2016. His new collection, True for the Moment is due out in the fall of 2019 from MadHat Press.