Saturday, February 8, 2014

g emil reutter- Three Poems


Howl, howl, howl, ice peppered
mud splashed clapboard scarecrow
wilted on pole. Fox ran amok in
hen house, rooster strutted in deafness.

Three little pigs huddled behind a couch
old hound howled,  blood-eyed owl hid
in the recesses of the branchless oak tree
to the rear of the house.

She swung on the pole in her soiled white
dress waving at passing trucks, her blistered
lips glistened in early morning sun, empty
sockets never closed. Crows ate nearby.

No one saw the sun drop from the sky, felt
plates separate or heard the screams of

There wasn’t any mourning.



In morning light
a tear drops on
her cheek. Fills
crevices of her
skin. Kisses her

She traces its
journey with a
fingertip, along the
route over and
over, feels wetness
of skin, lines in
her face, pain
of heart.

Her twisted fingers
clasp, she nods off
dreams, sleeps. A
new tear drops as
she wakes.


It’s a Job

As I drink my morning coffee I hear him
arrive, the diesel still cranky after an early
wake up in winter’s cold. He steps to the
back of the truck, pant length ankle high
worn uniform shoes. He whistles, pulls
the plastic bins to the edge of the truck
loads the leather satchel, slings it over
slender shoulder, pulls down the door
walks to the apartment entrance, yanks
the door open and begins filling the
small boxes with mail, drops packages
in front of doorways, whistles while he
weaves through the complex. He says
hello to those he passes or hands certified
letters, walks the basement, up and down
steps in and out of buildings. As quickly as
he arrived, the sound of the cranking begins
the truck pulls out, he parks up the street
begins again, house to house part of the fabric
of life and I don’t know his name.

BIO: g emil reutter lives and writes in the Fox Chase neighborhood of Philadelphia, Pa. Eight collection of his poetry and fiction have been published. He can be found at:

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