Sunday, February 12, 2023

Prose Poem: Winnie Hu and the matador.

 


A matador is an embroidered fool.

But then, aren't we all . . . 

This story is not about a matador.

This story is about the last newspaper

published in Belle Fourche

South Dakota.

 

I have no reason to think

that Winnie Hu,

who is not an embroidered fool,

but works for the New York Times,

had any inkling of what happened

in Belle Fourche.

 

You might think that mentioning

a noted journalist in this manner

is simply egregious name-dropping.

A fishing expedition,

I think jurists call it.

 

But she is an archetype,

an avatar,

that gives this Belle Fourche

incident meaning and 

substance.

 

The last newspaper ever

published in Belle Fourche

used an article by Winnie Hu

about planting more trees

in New York City.

 

South Dakota has so few trees

that those that spring up 

are suffered to grow unmolested

like a park statue.

 

And now the state has even fewer

newspapers, once the Belle Fourche

paper ceased publishing.

 

It happened like this --

No, I guess it's not that important.

It wasn't a very good newspaper

anyway.

Their obituary writer routinely

 misspelled the names of the dead.

And they ran a column of old quotes

by Harold Stassen.


Sorry, Winnie.  

Sorry, Belle Fourche.

Sorry, Mr. Stassen.

Apologies, matadors.

I thought I had something

important to say.

But I don't.


*********************************

haiku


woke up from a nap --

my mouth tastes like cough syrup --

the Sabbath silence.


*************************************

 

Ms. Hu's somewhat puzzling email response to this poem:

 

Hi Tim, good morning and thank you! So sorry to hear about the Belle Fourche paper but I enjoyed your tribute. And hopefully there are more trees in your future! Winnie  

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