DOUG PAUGH : Navy Bunk House
SAM VAKNIN : The Miracle of the Kisses
contemporary international poetry - for your reading pleasure,
poetry from new and established poets and essays on writing

All the fine arts are species of poetry--Samuel Taylor Coleridge

for mature audience over 18 BACK

Howard Chandler Christy Scene at the Signing of the Constitution Art Poster Print
Howard Chandler...

Buy This at

Navy Bunk House The Miracle of the Kisses Gone

Navy Bunk House
Once inside the breath of steel Is cold, unbreakable. We tied ourselves in during storms. Just, rough waves. I remember my first concussion Wrapped in blood and roped sheets Red and wetted with dizziness From Ouzo and hashish. The mind was best when busting Out in a toke of drunksqueal. A knot of seamanship diving in dream with Gull-sharp accuracy is hard for sleep.
I have many things to write unto you but I will not write with pen and ink
--JOHN the theologian

FIND home

Paris, City of Love
Paris, City of...

Buy This at
Navy Bunk House The Miracle of the Kisses Gone

The Miracle of the Kisses
That night, the cock denied him thrice. His mother and the whore downloaded him, nails etched into his palms, his thorny forehead glistening, his body speared. He wanted to revive unto their moisture. But the nauseating scents of vinegar and Roman legionnaires, the dampness of the cave, and then that final stone... His brain wide open, supper digested that was to have been his last. He missed so his disciples, the miracle of their kisses. He was determined not to decompose.
Poetry endangers the established order  of the soul - Plato

guidelines INDEX

Coney Island, New York - Steeplechase Park Parachute Jump Daytime Scene
Coney Island, New...

16 in. x 22 in.
Buy This at

Navy Bunk House The Miracle of the Kisses Gone

The old dog isn't sitting in the backseat of the car, door's still left open, but backseat is empty. Mother and daughter start calling for Yak, each scream a bit more desperate. The neighbor sees smoke, door is closed, but house may not be empty. She calls the fire department, neighbors gather, scream for help. They search everyone's car thinking Yak may have been confused, crawled into someone else's backseat. He used to do that after long hikes, find a fancy car or a van with a bed. Firemen race into the house, put out fire, but miss the girl first time through. Neighbor says she may be in her room, and there she is lying on the floor. They return to the pond, and call out to our friends, asking if they've seen Yak. "He's probably out in the woods dead somewhere," the homeowner yells back and my daughter bawls. Neighbors call girl's father who works nearby, and he calls his wife on cell phone. She's with her closest friend driving to the mall. She howls down the freeway. They refuse to believe Yak went off to die. Their other dog helps search the woods, the streets, the warehouses. Friends remain seated, drinking beer, admiring Yak's wild, natural death. Mother returns to burned daughter lying on front yard. Neighbors huddle on lawn, praying. She doesn't rises from the dead. Police investigate. Neighbors watch the news, contemplating who's to blame. Mother and daughter put up signs everywhere, post ads in paper, on radio. More sternly, friends say: "Old dogs go off to die." So easy their way. Smoke a joint, think cosmic pseudo-Indian thoughts. Parents and closest friends say daughter was spoiled, she just wanted to anger her parents, set the room on fire to teach them a lesson. She didn't mean to die. Maybe Yak strayed off mad because they took in a stray cat who had kittens. Maybe Yak wanted things the way they used to be. "But he liked eating their food," daughter says. "It wasn't so bad here." Friend refuses to believe the God-fearing mother who loved soaps and a good sale killed her daughter, then picked her up to go shopping five minutes later. Everyone tells the friend she's in denial. Daughter and mother refuse to believe Yak walked off to die. Think he became confused and lost, or someone stole him. Grow angered at friends who didn't help look. They tell mother she has displaced anger. Either way, thirteen-year-old dog is gone. Fourteen-year-old girl is gone. Kitten sleeps on old dog's bed. Mother sleeps behind bars. Friends are less sure they'll crawl into woods and die. Neighbors are less sure the mother will still go to heaven. Friends now say someone stole Yak. He'll be back. Neighbors say she didn't mean for her daughter to die. But these things happen. Anger feels directed. Everything feels denied. They're gone.
Deep Tranquility
Deep Tranquility
Nicole Martinay
Buy This at
free counters
DOUG PAUGH : Navy Bunk House
SAM VAKNIN : The Miracle of the Kisses

Not a state organ: POETRYREPAIRS accepts no monies from federal, state, or local governments.
We relie on readers like YOU who contribute to maintain POETRYREPAIRS online.

link to poetryrepairs
NAVIGATION for mature audience over 18
BACK | comments + feedback on FACEBOOK | FIND | guidelines | home | INDEX | LinkedIn® professional networking services |

submit [sitename]