THE ART OF THE DEAL

by Steve Deutsch

 

 

Cartoon by José Alberto Rodríguez Avila

My cousin Bobby

tells me

the ultra rich

 

are negotiating

for more sunshine

on their compounds.

 

He reasons

that will mean

less sunshine

 

for the rest of us.

“They also want

a full moon

 

every night of the year.”

Bobby’s the nicest guy,

but thinks 2+2 is advanced math.

 

He read about the sunlight

in several feeds

on the internet

 

and now he owns it.

I ask him

who they are negotiating with

 

and he gives me

his poor dumb cousin look.

I drive home past

 

what we know as “the castle on the hill,”

and it seems to me

the hill has gotten higher.

 

The sun sets at my house

at 7:41 tonight—

it’s supposed to set at eight.

 

And I have to wonder

what else they might

be bargaining for.

Steve Deutsch is poetry editor of Centered Magazine and was the first poet in residence at the Bellefonte Art Museum. He has been nominated for the Pushcart and Best of the Net Prizes multiple times. He has six volumes of Poetry. One, Brooklyn won the Sinclair Poetry Prize.

ZEUS REDUX

by Steve Deutsch

We do it by ionizing

the radiation and shifting

the polarization of the earth’s

magnetic core

 

millions of times per second.

We control it

from a basement apartment

in Hoboken—

 

that bluest of blue towns,

paid for by the DNC.

The four of us

do the weathering

 

on two old Apple laptops.

Our biggest concern

is the intermittent loss of the internet.

Damn Comcast.

 

We do our best

to make the heat and storms

believable—

blamable on climate change.

 

What a hoax.

Few have noticed

it is only the red areas

suffering the ill effects.

But now, one or two of the wise

have picked up on it,

I assure you that will end

with completion of our next project.

 

Lightening bolts.

Steve Deutsch is poetry editor of Centered Magazine and was the first poet in residence at the Bellefonte Art Museum. Steve was nominated three times for the Pushcart Prize and once for The Best of the Net Anthology. He has published six books of poetry. One, Brooklyn, was awarded the Sinclair Poetry Prize from Evening Street Press.

WINTER 2045

by Steve Deutsch

We bought the corner place

on Burroughs Street—

I’m sure you know it—

a stately two story

built when the neighborhood

was only good for grazing cows.

 

It took two years of construction

now that the summer restrictions 

are in force. We replaced the windows,

added insulation and central air—

two bathrooms and a kitchen.

 

Only this week, we found our way 

to the attic. It’s a wonderland.

Skis and snow shovels

and sleds for children and adults.

And in two huge chests

clothing for a winter fashion show

on an air-conditioned stage.

 

It was cold here once—

although the children refuse

to believe it.

It was cold here once—

although I hardly remember.

Ice hung from the trees—

the snow so high

we could barely open our back doors.

 

My parents would go 

south for the winter—

to Florida or coastal Carolina.

To places first scorched then drowned—

to places now as bare 

as the surface of the Moon. 

 

Steve Deutsch is poetry editor of Centered Magazine and is poet in residence at the Bellefonte Art Museum. Steve was nominated three times for the Pushcart Prize. His chapbook Perhaps You Can was published in 2019 by Kelsay Press. His full length books Persistence of Memory; Going, Going, Gone; and Slipping Away were published by Kelsay. His book Brooklyn was awarded the Sinclair Poetry Prize from Evening Street Press and published in 2023.

SLUM LORD

by Steve Deutsch

This is what an eviction threat from Donald Trump looks like. (From a 1987 case involving an elderly couple living in the building at 100 Central Park South.) —CNN, March 28, 2016

You send the beef
in bowling shirts
and shitkicker boots
every Sunday morning
to collect from the perennial poor
in the claptraps
you own on Stone Avenue.

Rumor has it
the hobbled wretch
who begs at the five and dime
offered lip
instead of money
and they showed him out
through a third floor window.

Dad’s mom lived
on the fourth floor of #720.
A refugee from the shtetl
she was well prepared
to live without heat
or running water,
to navigate the teeter-totter stairs
in the half light of a 40 watt bulb,
to coexist with roaches and rats,
the acrid smell of cabbage,
untended garbage,
and the methodical cruelty
that humans without hope
inflict on one another.

I know you.
You have the health
and building people
in your ample hip pocket
and while you might
hire some people to spit
shine your shoes
and some to break legs,
you spend every Sunday night
counting and recounting
the stack of smalls,
the nickels and dimes—
because for you,
Donny,
a sumptuous view
of the New York skyline
can never compare
to the heft of a roll
of nickels.

Steve Deutsch lives in State College, PA. His recent publications have or will appear in Panoply, Algebra of Owls, The Blue Nib, Thimble Magazine, The Muddy River Poetry Review, Ghost City Review, Borfski Press, Streetlight Press, Gravel, Literary Heist, Nixes Mate Review, Third Wednesday, Misfit Magazine, Word Fountain, Eclectica Magazine, The Drabble,  TheNewVerse.News and The Ekphrastic Review. He was nominated for Pushcart Prizes in 2017 and 2018. His chapbook Perhaps You Can will be published in 2019 by Kelsay Press.

RUST BELT

by Steve Deutsch

Sure, we loved the hats and hoopla
the rhythmic chants of lock her up,
but we are not a stupid people.
We know full well this patchy place
between the slag heaps
and the scrub pine--
these crumbling houses perched behind
the padlocked plant once known
for truck tires,
will never be great—
or even good.

You say rust belt
and mean the measure
of empty factories
and gutted storefronts.
The jobs bled out.
The eyesores left behind to moulder.
But the rust is mostly in us.
Too many years of children
born to little hope.
Too many years of promises
from windbags in dingy union halls
and air-conditioned buses
painted red, white, and blue.

This afternoon, I take my maul
to the wood pile
by the rusted chain link fence.
Crisp and clear,
It is a fine day to bust things up--
And the making
of that splintered shattered kindling
with a body that burns
is as near as I will ever come to joy.

Steve Deutsch, a semi-retired practitioner of the fluid mechanics of mechanical hearts, lives with his wife Karen in State College, PA.  He has published most recently in Misfit Magazine, Eclectica magazine, The Ekphrastic Review, The Drabble and TheNewVerse.News. 

A LAST LAB REPORT

by Steven Deutsch

Burning Earth source: WallpaperFolder; Lab Report source: Jimmie at flickr.

Set the planet to simmer,
with the ordinary hubbub
of some seven billion lives.
Add the ordered activity
of the supporting cast,
plankton to pachyderms.
Then factor in the geologic—
those generous memories
from an ancient past.

Now, cover gently
with the exhalation
of industrial waste.
Measure often as you wait,
so men of stature
may use the numbers
to cudgel those across an aisle
created for the purpose
of disagreeing.

For your report,
use a lined notebook--
the kind recommended
for second graders
practicing penmanship
in the long ago of future,
and record the changes
that astound and horrify
for the next few hundred years.

No need to turn in your assignment.
In time, the pages of your history
will curl, and brown, and burn.

Steve Deutsch is a retired practitioner of fluid mechanics, as applied to mechanical hearts and heart valves.  He lives with his wife, a visual artist, in State College, Pennsylvania.  He is responsible for the blog: stevieslaw@wordpress.com and has published short fiction and poetry, most recently in Misfit Magazine, One-Sentence Poems, and at Silver Birch Press.