The Beat Goes On (Courtesy Rattle)
Franz Wright Comes To Starbucks (Courtesy Muddy River Poetry Review)
Gold Star (Courtesy Barefoot Muse)
The Rag - Myles Gordon
Franz Wright Comes To Starbucks (Courtesy Muddy River Poetry Review)
Gold Star (Courtesy Barefoot Muse)
The Rag - Myles Gordon
Scrubbing the floor by hand
between stove and sink,
I see I am using
a rag made from my wife’s
old flannel nightgown:
wallpaper pattern -
purple flowers on green
stems against off-white
cloth – threadbare,
the scoop neck
that hung from her shoulders so
comfortably for so long -
was there ever a night
she didn’t wear it?
I can see her taking scissors
to it, laying square after square
on the armrest
of the living room couch
by lamplight, meditative
in her reading glasses
her legs curled
beneath her, a mug of
coffee at her hip.
The cloth is supple and
soft as I dampen and squeeze it
over the bucket,
water running
down my fingers
to my wrist,
a warm trickle to my elbow.
What part of the nightgown
was this? Where did it press
her body night after night?
Is it the same swatch I stroked
lightly so many times,
the curve of her hip, so
lightly, so lightly as she slept?
YOU
DON’T WANT TO GO - Myles
Gordon - Published Courtesy Tebot Bach
When you go to the
Newton-Wellesley Hospital
you don’t want to go to the
west wing
when you go to the west wing
you don’t want to go to the
fourth floor
when you go to the fourth
floor
you don’t want to go to the
oncology unit
when you go to the oncology
unit
you don’t want to talk to
Dr. O’Connor about your mother’s tests
when you talk to Dr.
O’Connor about your mother’s tests
you don’t want to hear malignant
when you hear malignant
you don’t want to look at
her in bed small and frail
when you look at her in bed
small and frail
you don’t want to think this is my mother
when you think this is my
mother
you don’t want to leave the
hospital
when you leave the hospital
you don’t want to go out
into the cold November night
you go out into the cold
November night
