Scott Simpson · Poetry
on cherry hill with my martin backpacking guitar
Selected Poems 1989 to 2009 · source pages 195, 196, 197
All poetryThe original line breaks, stanza spacing, and placement are preserved. Long lines scroll horizontally.
Source page 195
on cherry hill with my martin backpacking guitar
1
three years ago
Martin began making them--
cut-down, sawn-off
easy to carry anywhere
I know an executive
Chris at the music store told me who
takes his to the office. This is a big seller
for men
30 to 45
half mandolin, half banjo
mellow and light so you can
feel it hum, pressed
against your ribs--
start your whole insides
to singing with one
strum
2
the first time I came out to Cherry Hill
a crack in the old
stone bridge
revealed yellowed photos torn
from Penthouse and Playboy,
sent our 8-yr-old stomachs
to our mouths--
threatened to pull us
inside-out, crotch first
why "Cherry Hill?" I asked
and Kirk told me he'd heard
all the high school girls
had lost their cherries here
we were so young
we looked for them
3
coming out here alone
with my guitar
I have developed a new
religion
or maybe an old one
the long grass on the hill
contains the spirits
Source page 196
of all little boys
who giggle here
and later find the world
mortared with more flesh
than any centerfold
the Spirits Temporal
graze as lost sheep
until I return, an older David
with my harp, singing
Absalom Absalom!
releasing them into the Eternal
in this ritual of adult
perspective
you must be
grass level, facing Heaven and playing
the chords to
Gone to Carolina in My Mind
4
I went walking with my 5-year-old daughter
and our feet led us
to Cherry Hill;
she wanted to stand on the
stone bridge
I'd told her about
see herself in the still creek below
she ran
here and there, collecting bits of
trash, old pop cans
oil jugs, asking, Can we
recycle this? and Why
do people want to trash
this place?
I wanted to tell her
want is too strong a word
but all I said was, Don't touch --
it's dirty. Someone else will get it.
of course, no one else would but at least
she never found
any photos
going home she asked,
Why do they call it "Cherry Hill?" I didn't see
any cherry trees.
Source page 197
and I had a thought
that today was a good day
for planting some
Copyright Scott Simpson, All Rights Reserved
