.
Allentown Nights
Sometimes the nights were full of evil there.
Relentless searchers drove the block most nights,
While novices in bushes would prepare
As Lady Scarface told them of their rights—
Just how to rob with sharpened rattail combs,
And countless other petty cruelties—
Demanding money, breaking into homes.
And yet, each morning rose again; the breeze
Provided us with promise, and the light
Proceeded to protect. We walked with ease,
And wondered why so small a change, so bright,
Could cleanse the foul observances of trees
To fill the star-crossed corners of this blight,
Dismissing all the demons of the night.
.
.
Endangered
My heart’s a little tough these days
From being kicked down streets, byways
Like some discarded piece of steak.
All dried up, crisscrossed with a rake,
It rolls along, distressed, alone,
Without a trace of muscle tone
To make it race, or skip a beat—
Upon the sidelines takes a seat
To watch the heartless ones play games
Of wins and losses, and who blames
The other one for what and why.
No heartfelt tears to mourn the lie,
It hopes that someday soon you’ll come
To rescue this endangered one.
.
.
A former Wilbur Fellow and six-time Pushcart nominee, Sally Cook is a regular contributor to National Review, and has appeared in venues as varied as Chronicles, Lighten Up On Line, and TRINACRIA. Also a painter, her present works in the style known as Magic Realism are represented in national collections such as the N.S.D.A.R. Museum in Washington, D.C. and The Burchfield-Penney, Buffalo, NY.
Sue – very good reads both of these, particularly, for me, the first, with its stark contrasts. I’d never heard of “rattail combs” but they sound fairly vicious and belie Allentown’s reputation, I read, as one of the hundred best places to live in USA.
Peter —
Though both are innocuous names, it’s Sally, not Sue! You may have been thinking of my friend, Susan J. B. — hope you don’t call her Sally.
No matter, no offence; still I know many are easily offended in that respect.
Yes, Allentown was a wonderful small community in Buffalo NY. Each house was as individual as each person. Lots of artists and musicians there. I once lived in the house where F. Scott Fitzgerald resided as a child, and I had the original bathtub. Often thought of filling it with gin and conducting 50 cent tours.
But then, those who associated art with prostitution began to conduct their business there. All property owners could do was work to raise property values; this gentrified the place out of existence. But for a few years, everyone – your grocer, laundry owner, picture framer was sure to be a character.
Glad you enjoyed “Allentown Nights”; many of my poems were written about that wonderful, quirky neighborhood.
Sally – sorry. I’m not even sure that I’ve ever met a “Sue,” but to confuse you with SJB could only be an honour indeed. Incidentally, you may call me Archibald, with the stress on the third syllable. We famous picture restorers have no need for rattailed
combs.
Sally Cook is especially gifted in describing places, not just regarding their physical appearance, but also in terms of their psychological atmospherics. Here she summons up a long-gone Allentown, and its unpleasant aspects. It wasn’t always a pleasant and idyllic place to live.
Along with this skill goes her ability to delineate deep personal feelings — as the second poem shows with its metaphor of a heart being kicked like a can down streets and alleyways.
Joe, you are very kind. But what you say is true. My own idea of it is that enough strange things have happened to me to indicate that someone from another dimension left the door open a crack after sending a lost recipe through the ceiling, levitating a beer bottle, appearing in spirit (only beloved animals so far) and foretelling the future — so much more — that I learned to accept these things as normal. One thing I accept as normal is that places have personalities.
Your heightened perceptions recognize this.
Sally, the first poem is an excellent presentation of how the lack of law enforcement can fill even a decent place with little horrors, at least at night. We are now dealing with similar problems where the theft of $950 or less is a misdemeanor for which the criminal is unlikely to be charged even if arrested. It is indeed strange to realize how daylight brings protection. And that “endangered ones,” such as in your second poem, may include the petty thieves whose illicit actitivities are ignored, although they may cry out for rescue before they too join the “heartless ones.” Don’t know if you planned these poems as a pair, but they seem to make a good one.
Margaret, no, I did not consciously pair the poems, but you’re
quite right — they both breathe the same thin air of despair.
That air seems to be largely on the West Coast, but it is slowly but surely blowing East; hitting snug, formerly secure spots along the way.
Today someone asked me why we have so few comedians today. I answered that our language has become so controlled, youi can actually be arrested in certain situations for saying what you really think. In my part of the East Coast, people have begun talkingg like the repressed peoples we used to think were funny ! I’m serious — average people consciously avoid saying things because “someone” might be listening !
Did you know there’s a new TV that tracks you in your movements? Makes me long for a victrola and those giant records.
Now we have artifical meat !! Everything we ingest has chemicals in it !!
I could go on, but all this is probably known to you already, and not worth repeating. I’d rather watch two bluejays fighting over a peanut.
Thanks for stopping by – you always have something thought-provoking to deliver.
Sally, I always enjoy your vignettes of American life and these two are wonderful examples.. The accompanying picture suggests Buffalo is a splendid town and I love your Fitzgerald bathtub connection. I hope you saved it and I will look for it on Ebay. Find a hair down the plug hole and you could make a fortune. Most enjoyable to read thank you.
Let me get this straight, Sally. Is Allentown a district of Buffalo? No matter. Your lines drew me in with the mood-laden atmosphere they created, making me feel as though I were breathing pure upstate empiric air.
Regarding “Endangered”, I’m curious as to just who the second person is in the final couplet.
So glad you enjoyed the introduction to “Allentown”.
Kip, Here’s the scene in Buffalo. After the War of 1812, one of the few houses left standing is two blocks away from where I once lived. It stood and stood, waiting for me to show up, and eventually I was given a tour of it — the oldest house in Buffalo, owned by a friend, who tortuously owned a business that sold antique hardware.
Buffalo was on a harbor and very involved with the building of the Erie Canal, which allowed goods from the west to be shipped to New York City, so a lot of interesting people ended up there including my grandfather. He was a naturopath MD, and spent a long time in the West treating isolated settlers and Indian tribes, but finally was drawn back East by my grandmother, one of the early soloists and accompanists at Chautauqua Institute. She claimed to have introduced the nonsense song “The Owl and the Pussycat” while performing there. Who can say? In any case it’s a good story, so perhaps I inherited some storytelling ability from her. By the way, the Wilcox Mansion pictured above, was 4-5 blocks from where I lived. It was where President McKinley was shot (at the Pan American) and died at the Wilcox.
Only one more –down 2 blocks from the Wilcox, hang half a block to the left, 2-3 buildings down (on the East) and you will find the small brick building where I was conceived.
Can you top this?
Thanks for asking, my friend.
The second person in “Endangered” could have been or might still be any number of people. That, I guess is the magic of poetry. In the words of our esteemed J. S Salemi, the poem is a “fictive artifact”, something I live by.
I can’t top that. But did you know that the Allentown neighborhood has its own website?
Kip, no I did not know of the website, but am not surprised. Others must have noticed its unique qualities. Won’t you please share it?
Sure:
https://www.visitbuffaloniagara.com/neighborhood/allentown/
Thanks for the website, Kip. –
Looked and saw they have commercialized and politicized a lot, but also added to their previous one. I will take a look to see if the earlier one still exists.
Sally, when I hear the name ‘Allentown” I think of the song by Billy Joel, as that was my introduction to the neighborhood. However, your poem provides a level of atmosphere, menacing detail, and lyricism well beyond this
introduction.
Your second poem is a great lesson in developing and presenting a sustained metaphor.
Thanks so much for your very perceptive thoughts and the clarity with which you express them.
You sound as if you may have been a fellow resident of that enchanted Allentown. Are/were you? Did we know each other, were we neighbors? Please, speak on this, will you?
And please also take a look at the website C.B.Anderson
provides. They’ve hyped up the place a bit, but some of the old place still remains.
Hello Sally, unfortunately I haven’t yet had the opportunity to visit the U.S.A.
I have heard of the name through song, and now in more depth through your atmospheric poem and the ensuing comments. I will look at the website provided by Kip.
Much better commentary precedes me, so I would only like to add that I was transported to a modern day, “Young Goodman Brown.”
Dearest Dame Sally, what a delightful duo. “Allentown Nights” is a dark, atmospheric, poetic tale of nightly horrors dissolving in a sunshine dawn of newness and hope. The dawn of the day always brings joy to me… until I switch on the news. I know I shouldn’t… but I do.
My favorite is “Endangered”. I can feel every bruise, wound and scar, and my own heart aches with every impacting image… this beautiful and soulful poem speaks to me in a language I understand perfectly. Thank you for sharing these polished poetic gems.
I’m sorry that you found it necessary to reprimand me over miscalling you Sue. If you read the comments to my Pre-Raphaelite poems you would have noticed that Damian calls me Paul. I was very pleased to receive his comment and didn’t think a tiny inadvertence like that was worth mentioning – at least not until now. You will be pleased, however, to hear that I have called your good friend neither Sally nor Sue.
Dear Peter –
You see, there is always a silver lining!.
I make up new names for cats all the time, and delight in it; most of them take it in their stride. Still, some get offended and won’t come when called to dinner.
We once picked up two who had been given unsuitable names at the shelter, and I set about re-naming them. I realized that we were not communicating effectively, and concluded that they must be speaking Greek. Result? They became Murphides (an ancient Greek Feline), and Purrphides who had a lot to say.
OK, you mis-called my name. It’s over. Now, can we be friends? I’d like that.
Of course I read the comments on the Pre-Raphaelites, and thank you for bringing them up. While in college I skewered them in a paper, I find them much more interesting in my maturity..
Sally – Yes of course we can be friends. We both share a fascination for Greek cats. We both have extensive prison records, you for skewering Pre-Raphaelites, me for bayoneting the odd abstract expressionist. What stronger bases for friendship could there be?
Yes, you are correct; some of the abstract expressionists were very odd.
We must discuss this at length. If you would like to so, ask Evan for my e-mail address. That might be fun. I also had a cat who learned to bark.