Thursday, March 12, 2015

Trish Saunders- Two Poems

Finally, you come to the reason for your letter, 
Whatever happened to Cousin Curt?
I'll tell you, but first a stiff bourbon, no ice,
and no questions after.

Curt gave up his diet of Fatso’s Fried Chicken;
coke, booze and ecstasy; 5-Hour Energy Shakes
and a crazy ex-wife too fond of guns.
(They give you no choice in rehab.)

But losing his darling Harley
after losing his license--
that took the heart out of him,
silenced his merry baritone belting out
“Mississippi River Won't You Keep On Shining.”

Rattlesnake stole our beautiful 
bad-boy cousin who had
loved snakes his entire life, some 
devil sank its fang into Curt's left leg 
out in the White Mountains 
where he’d pitched his tent
hoping to find 
a little peace.

If Curt phoned someone
in his final hour,
I don’t know
who it would be—
God, maybe.
He’d found religion, you see.
I’m sure Curt sent out his prayers
and who can say
they were not answered.

The Honolulu Arms 

Think I can afford a million dollar condo?
You’re blowing smoke up your ass,
says the woman behind me 
to the agent handing her a brochure. 
We’re just here for the free lunch,  
she adds, thumbing at me.

I’m really here to spend some time 
while my car is loaded on a ship 
bound for Seattle, but I see
tears pooling in her eyes,
so I nod, yes, we’re together.

An hour later, our tour of the Honolulu high-rise
is over, and we walk silently through the
marble lobby; looking in vain for hors d'oeuvres.

The woman plucks a plumeria
from the bush at the front door, 
jabs it defiantly behind her left ear.
I’ll leave you here, she says.

Bio:  Trish Saunders began writing poems in answer to a New Year's Resolution on December 31, 2013. She divides her time between Seattle and Honolulu. 

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