"But the thought of being a lunatic did not trouble him. The horror was that he might also be wrong."

-George Orwell, 1984

Steve Henn teaches high school English in northern Indiana. He’s the author of several books including Guilty Prayer, Indiana Noble Sad Man of the Year, and his most recent chapbook, American Male, published by Main Street Rag in February 2022. Steve's the proud father of his children with the late American artist Lydia Henn. He loves crab cakes, playing records, and he gives poetry readings in all kinds of places.

Welcome to the Poets Weave. I’m Romayne Rubinas Dorsey. Steve joins us long distance from his classroom. Welcome, Steve. What have you brought for us today?

The Dawning

Maybe it’s the heat that’s melted

something in my core otherwise jagged,

cynical or aloof here at Three Crowns Coffee

but when the first thing the homeless guy

alone on the couch says to me is “if you ever need

anything don’t be afraid to ask,” I don’t laugh

or shake my head, I don’t chuckle or guffaw

or break eye contact at this humanizing

and unprecedented offer of assistance

from a stranger even though it’s curiously followed

by “nice to meet you” and “I’m here all the time”

which is not entirely true, seeing as he’s not been

here any of the 10 or 15 times this summer

I’ve been in, drinking iced tea and jotting a few lines

or chatting up my 10 year old – still,

I’m struck and lifted, pleased and pacified and inspired

by such a gesture, so simple and dignified

from a man carrying clothes in plastic grocery bags,

a strip of rag run through his belt loops, knotted

and forming a tail there where the buckle would be

and I’m nearly embarrassed by his gracefulness

as he’s leaving he says “be careful now, out in this heat”

sweet Jesus is this happening? Who is this man?

Do Saints exist? Why do I feel like I’m going to cry?

God in Heaven Who I’ll wake up doubting tomorrow

or Something or Someone Up There or Out There tell me

this is what the world is coming to, I so much want

to believe in this, tell me this is where we start anew.

Father’s Day, Fishing

Did you see that Dad? my boy

said from the grass behind the seawall

that’s quite a cast

for a five year old he said

I wish I were so

unconsciously witty

later he said I almost

got it in that boat

I said that would not

be good he said let’s go

there and gestured

like Caesar Augustus at the public

pier presently I worried

he’d fall in then his lure

stuck in the rope in the water

that anyone can swim under

if they want to go beyond

but no one does because

social norms I dropped to a knee

set my rod down reached

into the water and while prying

his lure from the rope I wasn’t

thinking quite as much about dying

Perfectly Natural

See that man

He’s following me

The organization he represents

has rigged an elaborate ruse

to convince me he’s not following me

Like he’s already at the cookie shop when I arrive

But he’s reading a thick book in a showy way

Like, nobody here but us book readers, just here

reading a book, me and you buddy, cookie shop book readers,

Come talk to me and I will infiltrate your subversive circle

of poets and musicians and art-supremacists

He’s sitting right behind me He wants me to say something

I can hear him breathing hoooo-pahhhh, hoooo-pahhh,

mimicking Darth Vader because he knows I get the joke

I am not going to talk to him I will not talk to him

He gets up to toss trash, bumps into a “coworker” at the door

This “coworker” is also a part of this elaborate ruse of undercover surveillance

“Are you going in?” he says. She laughs “not til 4!”

A ha ha ha. A ha. A hah. Titter titter. Two normal local “workers” sharing a joke

But this is no joke.

He obviously is trying to get me to say things to him

He obviously wants to know things about our plans

To replace hymnals with profane poetry in every church in the county on Easter Sunday

I don’t tell him anything I will never tell him anything they can’t make me talk

He is headed out of doors. He is headed across the street. A car honks

as he crosses and he waves casually, just a normal local book-reading

Darth Vader-imitating “worker” having a casual day waving to cars casually

That was very clever

I have to give them that

If I didn’t know better I would think that was perfectly natural.

You’ve been listening to the poetry of Steve Hann on the Poets Weave. I’m Romayne Rubinas Dorsey.