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Lost Lake Folk Opera Spring -Summer 2018 Volume 5 Number 1 In This Fifth Anniversary Issue Six Poets Laureate Joyce Sutphen • Minnesota Poet Laureate 37 Four Poems of the Road Ken McCullough • Winona Poet Laureate 5 The Bear Husband – John Osa & Ursula Rob Hardy • Northfield Poet Laureate 91 Three Poems – Rebecca, Jane & Light Nicholle Ramsey • Winona Associate Laureate 67 Two Poems – Water and Sand Jim Johnson • Duluth Laureate Emeritus 63 Two Trout Tales from Minnesota and Iowa Emilio DeGrazia • Winona Laureate Emeritus 110 Late Thoughts – at the Mayo Clinic ER Lost Lake Folk Opera 1 Short fiction & essays Anne Muccino Dalia & J.T. 15 Christopher G. Bremicker Relapse 24 Justin Watkins John Bass & other prose 33 Jim Miles My First Hunt 40 Steve Cooke Lawn Adventures 49 Roger McKnight Burnt Potatoes 55 John Torgrimson Feast & Requiem 69 James Petrillo Ashyer 76 Dan Coffey Nowhere to Go 89 Nancy Palker Zipper Lady 92 Ken Kakareka Cabrón 97 Ken Fliés Dog Days of Winter 103 Poetry Steve McCown Six Poems 10 Lee Henschel Jr. Forty Lenten Haiku 21 Tufik Y. Shayeb Three Poems 27 Robert Wooten Six Poems 45 Michael Ceraolo Eighty Days 52 Kay Bosgraff Three Poems 60 Steve Toth Three Poems 73 Steve Schild Three Poems 85 Ed Schwartz Five Poems 96 Marcus Hines Three Poems 101 Nicole Borg Waiting for the Prince 109 Ken McCullough The Levee 116 Everybody has one — Op-Ed Tom Driscoll 114 2 Summer 2018 Shipwreckt Books Publishing Company L.L.C. Rocket Science Press Lost Lake Folk Art Up On Big Rock Poetry Series Lost Lake Folk Opera Lost Lake Folk Opera is a Shipwreckt Books imprint published twice annually. Letters to the editor are always welcome. 309 W. Stevens Ave. Rushford, Minnesota, 55971 507 458 8190 [email protected] Managing Editor Tom Driscoll Publisher Beth Stanford www.shipwrecktbooks.com Online submissions preferred, or as an email attachment. Cover art & interior graphics by Shipwreckt Books We acquire First North American Serial Rights (FNASR) upon acceptance and retain exclusive rights to your submission for six months following publication. Your piece will be archived and may be included in future retrospective editions. If you republish your work, please attribute first publication to Lost Lake Folk Opera magazine. Copyright 2018 Shipwreckt Books Publishing Company (Lost Lake Folk Opera) All Rights Reserved ISBN-10: 0-9990430-4-8 ISBN-13: 978-0-9990430-4-2 Lost Lake Folk Opera 3 www.shipwrecktbooks.com 4 Summer 2018 The Bear Husband Ken McCullough Winona, Minnesota, Poet Laureate John Osa and the Village Girl Prologue She lived in a town by the western sea, silvered by wind and salt air. The men set out in their boats each day and the women mended the nets. The last few months the catch had been lean and the skies were black as soot. The waves had swept fishermen overboard and the wails of the women rose. * One day in late summer she wandered off to pick blueberries in the woods. They were scarce, ’til a dark young man said I’ll take you to a patch. Drawing by Julia Crozier So they climbed the hill to a meadow, and they picked through the afternoon. * They lost track of time, and didn’t say much. She danced with his brothers at gatherings The berries were dusty and big. some black, some brown, some yellow, some red, and even a few albinos. The air was dry so she took off her dress The gamut, from lean to stout. and filled it full of berries. She didn’t mind that he saw her naked-- Some came in gaggles, some alone, he was naked too. they came from all directions. Some had little ones at their dugs, And then it started to rain in sheets-- and they quaffed from drinking gourds. He said you won’t make it home-- the river’s swollen its banks … I’ll give you They danced and they danced and they swirled her around shelter, a fire, some food. clumsy but somehow agile. Some even stood upright on hind legs He smelled strong, like upturned earth; just to make her feel welcome. he smelled like the dance of danger. But she was a dancer and followed him home. Then they’d drop to all fours, swing heads back and forth, She spent the night, a month, another. and bare their teeth at each other. Lost Lake Folk Opera 5 Sang on the intake of their breaths-- She heard the drumbeat of his heart huffed and chuffed in low voices. that pulled her down to sleep. * * He had a den that he shared with her, She taught him how to light a fire, he’d marked it off with his urine. he taught her to catch fish with her hands. The den was a quiet place for them He came to like roasted trout in the shadows to lie together. and she learned to like raw liver. The smell of him, of her, the earth, Often he took her to honey trees, the music of wind in the pines but she let him collect the honey. Oh, Honeypaws! and the cheerful black-capped chickadees, Once he fell with a thud to the earth elk bugling over the hills. with a beehive stuck on his snout. When they coupled he made love to her fiercely: They roamed together most of the time he took her from behind, but sometimes he went alone, biting, growling, with claws dug in; passing through groves like a hairy ghost, there was thunder all around her. a shadow, and barely a whiff. She’d had a husband for just three months The same hawk always circled them who’d drowned in his fishing dory. and the black jay made his reports. But this kind of mating was new to her-- As they rambled, she always left traces. this butting, this caterwauling. He noticed, but looked to the side. She turned him so they looked at each other On cold clear nights with the stars awash, and she gazed him tender and slow. the coyotes called and answered. A rumble came from deep in his chest-- The scent of black cherries on the wind— they were thunder and starlight together. she learned to scent them also. Unlike a male and female bear When the air turned chill, they ate their fill, they wanted to stay together. and fattened up for each other, And that bone in his penis, new to her, but they went to separate dens for the winter. was her single-minded consort. He was John Osa, she was Ursula. She noticed the footprints of her bear-- * just like a barefoot man. Her own were somewhere in between A light snow had fallen. John Osa that of a bear and a woman. walked backwards out of his den. Then jumped to his left to a smaller cave She slept with her head on his chest in case they’d been following him. rough against her cheek. 6 Summer 2018 Spring Ursula (sung softly): Ursula (spoken): Woodpecker rapping on a hollow tree I know they are my brothers. Drip drip dripping outside My cousins are some of the others. the belly of sleep is open wide They’re looking for both of us. The long red dreaming is over What we have is turning to dust. Two balls of fur with needle teeth John Osa (spoken, angrily) are sucking at my breasts I don’t know whether to trust you! One of them has his barrel chest The other looks just like me Maybe you’ll give me away! Maybe this is our last day! I’ll sup buttercups, buds of willows Maybe these poor cubs cool water from the pine bog will fall victim to their clubs. rake up ants from a rotten log moss under paws for pillows. Ursula (sung): My Honeypaws, my dearest Human voices in the distance: I tell you this in earnest A hunter( shouts): The dogs have picked up the scent. Their voices are fading, they’re going away Another hunter( shouts): Look up there, on that ridge!… They will not find us today. Ursula (spoken): But the fish are gone, they are starving, Do I hear dogs? And hunters’ voices? the crops in their fields have withered. Surely they’re looking for me. I must tell them to follow the polestar. And they’re looking for meat, but he I must lead them to where you are. will fight them. There’ll be no choice. John Osa (spoken, in a rage) John Osa appears on the sheltering ridge. How can you do this?! (He speaks, obviously disturbed): (He growls and rakes the ground with his claws.) I thought our bond would protect us. I wondered if they’d find you. Ursula (sung): It is not bear nature to stay this close I am caught between two worlds— but I wanted to see my two sons. Do I have a choice? Some male bears even eat their own spawn John Osa (sung): but that isn’t my inclination; I see the way it must be-- I am here to protect you three-- The grandfathers have set me free you are not yet fully a she bear. to honor these prayers. Must I give my life that their families may live? (he sings): They waited for the snows to clear. I thought that there would be time. How did they know to look up here? Do you recognize their voices? We’re running out of choices. Lost Lake Folk Opera 7 Ursula(sung); My soul tells me otherwise.

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