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John Alcock

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Poem XXll

Doc Williams double-locks his surgery’s
iron-framed front door
steps out free of consultation
and clinical jargon
breathes the spring air
turns his steps towards the hustle
of Gloucester’s fish-laden quay
and passes along the waterfront street
to the cabins and backyards
where the fishingfolk dwell

Where he knows he will find
Marshall his friend
old negro trawlerman
whose seventy years
are pickled in brine
and packed in the ice
he’s crushed for his catch
standing all-weather ankle deep
in frozen porgies caught
for smart Boston folk
in their lush avenues set
far back from the ocean’s blast

Hi Bill is written
in Marshall’s grin
as the two sit down
for Milton his son
to set before them
a Wild Turkey bottle
and two earthen cups

What’s your problem
the old man asks
now physician in turn
where’ve you got up to now

Twenty-one grunts Bill
can’t get beyond that
till I start to think medicine
and poetry don’t mix

The Doc stands up
and paces the yard
staring at the old man’s
white chickens scratching
around his old barrow
old red wheelbarrow

So what’s it to be
asks Marshall but Bill
hushes him up

So much depends
he says with a smile taking
a thick thumbed notebook
out of his jacket pocket
upon...
and carefully prints
...Poem XXll

David Calcutt’s workshop: Cannon Poets 2012

In 1923, William Carlos Williams was working on Spring and All, a book for the Contact Publishing Company. He gave the poems Roman numerals in order of composition, getting held up after completing Poem XXI, until a visit to a friend, where he happened to notice some chickens around an old barrow....

Page(s) 48-49

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