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  April 2017
volume 14 number 1
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  featured poets
  John LaMar Elison
  Gabriella Garofalo
  John Grey
  Dani Raschel Jiménez
  Scott C. Kaestner
  Rick Lupert
  Afric McGlinchey
  Bethany W Pope
  Sanjeev Sethi
 
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John Grey April 2017
   

 

bio


art by the feral artist

    John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, South Carolina Review, Gargoyle, and Big Muddy Review with work upcoming in Louisiana Review, Cape Rock and Spoon River Poetry Review.

   

 

Missing You in the Twenty-First Century

What it's like when you're not here:
the ancient mariner in front of a crowd,
my "water water everywhere" routine
evoking no sympathy,
finding no one who can relate.

My house is the property
of a skittering rabbit
whose flash of tail I see occasionally
but who refuses to be caught.

And conversation with myself
has such a nasty, ear-ringing tone:
tinnitus for the lonely.

Small buildings are now tall.
Sunset arrives with an unfair quotient of bugs.
Every flower in every vase
stinks like an aquatic plant.
Wind can't help but be cold.
Tears freeze on cheeks
like ice on leaves.
My nerves pass all discomfort on to my brain.
Life is random, bitter and inconclusive.

But at least the knife is sharp.
And. it has a razor for a son.
My skin, my veins,
dare me to enter their maze any time.
So I will do away with myself
until you return.

copyright 2017 John Grey

   

 

The Small Momentous

Afternoon sun
burnished her young body.
I primped her thighs, her face,
with intricate fingers,
smelled the strangeness
of her long curly hair.

A secret meadow,
nature's beauty,
warm spring air,
and a willing young woman -
what was I supposed to do?
float a balloon? fly a kite?

She lay on her back,
delicately scratched,
fondly bruised,
unaware of a drop of blood
on the grass tip
by her leg.

Forty kisses of her lips
and one of her navel -
all in a mouth's work,
with a smattering of tender words
of course.

I remember her breath
more than anything,
how light it was
and yet sticky like dew.

She muttered something
about us being together forever.
It was definitely a mutter
and not a clear statement of intent.
At least,
that was how time heard it.

copyright 2017 John Grey