I knew when he said, “I told you I didn’t want any damn books in our house,” and I replied, “I know you don’t like having books around because they make you feel dumb, and I’ve told you a million times that you’re not dumb, that I wouldn’t have married a dumb man, but this one is different because it’s a book about what I should expect during pregnancy, and what to expect after our baby is born,” and he just said, “Just get that thing out of here,”…
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I couldn’t believe we were even having the conversation. The sign said, “No Swimming.” That’s enough for me, but they were posted along the bank so incrementally as to ensure wherever a person stood, the message was unavoidable. Yet, Carl had already stripped his shirt, revealing the sweater of hair beneath, and was unbuttoning his pants. Our masonry crew had a long laugh after I mentioned his “sweater” when he removed his shirt one hot, summer day.
“Ah, they just post signs like that for kids and pansies,” Carl said, “for liability purposes. All the lawsuits these days, you know. Look over there. I used to jump from that rope when I was a kid.”…
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The day before my brother died I went to see Clara for the last time. I hung up my mother’s soft voice and walked to the bedroom window. I rubbed a circle in the condensation and watched puddles collect on the sidewalk below. Two black squirrels ran up bare tree limbs fighting over an acorn. A girl, who might have been pretty, waited at the crosswalk beneath her umbrella in the drizzle.
I took off my wedding ring and drove through rainbow-soaked streets to Clara’s apartment. The oaks lining the way bent in the wind. At a stoplight, a little girl in a red parka jumped in a puddle, mud spattering on her white tights.
Clara opened the door; a pink bathrobe was cinched loosely at her waist.…
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At the peak of my
pubescence,
I almost kill my father
who lost his soul
in the Siberian Gulag.
I plunge a fork into
his vodka-soaked thigh
and run away from home.
I get lost in the woods
and can’t find my way back,
roaming around in circles
on the edge of panic
in my clownish shoes.
I remember the rule of three
from my Eagle Scout training:
I’ll die in three hours in the cold,
three days without water,
and three weeks without food.
At night, I can see the Big Dipper
and follow the stars in the bowl
to the North Star, sure of direction
when I find moss on the north side
of a tree.
I slog through marshes,
searching for a rivulet,
running past clusters of chanterelles
I’d gathered in the past,
when I discover the brackish water
of an estuary that lead to the open sea.…
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Evan Mantyk is the president and co-founder of the Society of Classical Poets. He teaches courses in literature and history at Fei Tian Academy of the Arts, in upstate New York. He previously worked as a news editor and reporter in New York City.
Please describe your website and your duties as editor/writer.
The Society of Classical Poets is dedicated to the proliferation of classical poetry. What does that mean? It means poetry usually with rhyme and/or meter. It also means poetry of good character that puts the reader first, not the poet. The government’s “Survey on National Participation in the Arts,” found, over the last twenty years or so, a sharp decline in the number of people who had read or listened to a poem within the last 12 months while other literary forms stayed static.…
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I will not be seen today &
how does it worry me?
out there a city swells
from river to weeds
like a silvery fish
taking first hesitant steps on land
unnoticed like most history
I hear it serenade with castanets
invisible like me
parts of the same dissolute fluid
we have passed the test
of loneliness
even our scars blank in the opaque
our voices mute
in the gasp of a morning
fat like sorrow
but more like guilt
in how it stays too long
– Ace Boggess…
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#34
Thirty-four minutes late & what I want this to be is another breakdown & my imagination burying you while you are singing & gentle to my shoulders. I want to be crazy & for you to be alive forever & if I can manage to change my beliefs before you come home that might just happen.
#35
Thirty-five minutes late & I have confirmed the existence of fire & I have taken small, heroic bites of my own flaming flesh. If I can be wolf enough to remove a limb without removing a limb, then I can sell you on the idea that you being late doesn’t ruin the whole pack of my mind. If I can sit here until the blue car enters the driveway, then nothing overly-human will happen.…
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