[New-Poetry] The glass of fat, the blue flame

[Anny Ballardini]

I read almost all the poem until I reached the name of the author, thinking 
it was written by a young woman.

From: "David Graham" <grahamd at ripon.edu>
Sent: Tuesday, September 19, 2006 2:57 PM


> Uncle
>
> I remember the forehead born
> before Abraham
> and flecked with white paint,
> the two hands kneading
> each other at the sink.
> In the basement on Grand
> he showed me
> his radio,
> Manila, Atlantis,
> the cities of the burning plains,
> the coupons
> in comic books, the ads of the air.
> Prophet of burned cars
> and broken fans, he taught
> the toilet the eternal,
> argued the Talmud
> under his nails. The long boats
> with the names of winds
> set sail
> in the sea of his blind eye.
>
> How could he come
> humpbacked
> in his crisp undershirt
> on the front porch in black Detroit
> bringing in the milk,
> the newspaper, the bills
> long past noon? His truck howls
> all night to Benton Harbor, Saginaw,
> Dog of the Prairie.
> In the high work camps
> the men break toward dawn.
> He sleeps under a mountain.
> Uncle, I call you again Uncle,
> I come too late
> with a bottle of milk
> and a chipped cup of Schnapps
> to loosen your fever, undo
> your arms and legs
> so you can rise
> above Belle Isle and the Straits,
> your clear eye
> rid of our rooms forever,
> the glass of fat, the blue flame.
>
> --Philip Levine. 1933. Atheneum, 1974.
>
>
> ====================================================
> David Graham
> grahamd at ripon.edu
> Home Page:
> http://www.ripon.edu/faculty/GrahamD/index.html
> Poetry Library:
> http://www.ripon.edu/faculty/GrahamD/poetrylib.html
> ====================================================
>