Memories Of West Street And Lepke Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABCDECFGGH IJKCLLIH MCCCIIIDCFCNCFIO CIC AAAAPDFJCJQHHI

Only teaching on Tuesdays book wormingA
in pajamas fresh from the washer each morningA
I hog a whole house on Boston'sB
hardly passionate Marlborough StreetC
where even the manD
scavenging filth in the back alley trash cansE
has two children a beach wagon a helpmateC
and is a young RepublicanF
I have a nine months' daughterG
young enough to be my granddaughterG
Like the sun she rises in her flame flamingo infants' wearH
-
These are the tranquilized FiftiesI
and I am forty Ought I to regret my seedtimeJ
I was a fire breathing Catholic C OK
and made my manic statementC
telling off the state and president and thenL
sat waiting sentence in the bull penL
beside a negro boy with curlicuesI
of marijuana in his hairH
-
Given a yearM
I walked on the roof of the West Street Jail a shortC
enclosure like my school soccer courtC
and saw the Hudson River once a dayC
through sooty clothesline entanglementsI
and bleaching khaki tenementsI
Strolling I yammered metaphysics with AbramowitzI
a jaundice yellow it's really tanD
and fly weight pacifistC
so vegetarianF
he wore rope shoes and preferred fallen fruitC
He tried to convert Bioff and BrownN
the Hollywood pimps to his dietC
Hairy muscular suburbanF
wearing chocolate double breasted suitsI
they blew their tops and beat him black and blueO
-
I was so out of things I'd never heardC
of the Jehovah's WitnessesI
Are you a C O I asked a fellow jailbirdC
No he answered I'm a J W-
He taught me the hospital tuckA
and pointed out the T shirted backA
of Murder Incorporated's Czar LepkeA
there piling towels on a rackA
or dawdling off to his little segregated cell fullP
of things forbidden to the common manD
a portable radio a dresser two toy AmericanF
flags tied together with a ribbon of Easter palmJ
Flabby bald lobotomizedC
he drifted in a sheepish calmJ
where no agonizing reappraisalQ
jarred his concentration on the electric chairH
hanging like an oasis in his airH
of lost connectionsI

Robert Lowell



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