Ken Haas, Two Poems

Perfection
Ken Haas

In junior high Spanish class
Mr. Koochman gave each kid a nickname
that followed us into the streets.

The pouty ingénue was Labios Levine,
the over-developed blonde Melones Morgan,
the kid from the projects, Kong Coleman.
The hairy one became Oso,
the sweaty one Puerco,
and the frail, nervous one
who rode the D train early
with the night nurses and winos,
was dubbed Hércules.

This was the Bronx in 1965.

Koochman, a cadaver in tweed, Continue reading “Ken Haas, Two Poems”

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Jan Chronister, Spring•Summer 2017

Hunting Season
Jan Chronister

An orange fist sticks out of a bureau drawer
catches my eye, a square of Mother’s black and many-colored
afghan we brought back from Florida last winter
along with quilts, costume jewelry and ceramics—
politely accepted, stored away in darkness, forgotten.

Glow of neon yarn on November morning
reminds me Ruby will never
crochet or stitch again
dress for church
paint another plate.

The hunter will find Continue reading “Jan Chronister, Spring•Summer 2017”

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