Thursday, January 22, 2015

Alan Catlin- Three Poems

Modern Love

Here on the edge
of the river swollen

with snow melt
impelled by storms

the river sticks
are projectiles

piercing the sides
of boats

scaring the passengers
as they are rowed

out into the fog
while I lay here

on the shore as if
ossified dead drunk

awaiting my turn
in the boat

waiting as you
remove the pennies

from my eyes to
deliver one last kiss

Lord of the Flies Generation

All their clothes
looked as if they
hadn't been washed
in years, as if they'd
been sleeping under
the stars in dumpsters
or nearby in slumcity
back alleys subsisting
on what they could
scavenge or steal,
their victims so
freaked they'd never
walk anywhere alone
in this lifetime or any
other. Their muggers
were so far beyond
the law their homes were
in another state of mind;
once captured they never
revealed the secrets
of the pack, twenty
years from now, there
will be more of them
than anyone could count.

Queen's Gambit                                             

The opening line
always was, "Got
a light?" The ones
that did leaned in
close as she cupped
her hands around
the flame, as she
said how much
the full ride would
cost for a bareback
trip with frills and
she had lots of takers
even if she looked
to be a half-dead
teen angel whose
eyes were as hard
as a grave marker;
one date already
carved, the other
of the way done.

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