Louis Efron
The following work is Copyright © 2024, and owned by Louis Efron and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Piñata
tattered blindfolds rip
from disoriented heads
to eagerly assess the damage
crimson custard yellow plum
blue shreds of what was once
a paper animal
cling to the string barely clinging
to the branch meant to support it
but not to protect it
chocolate bars jawbreakers tootsie rolls
all flavors of lollipops spill
from a swiftly emptying belly
discarded
it lies in the dirt
a hollow shell
beneath weeping bark chips
and never-sated bare feet
nothing left to give
J. H. Johns
J. H. Johns “grew up and came of age” while living in East Tennessee and Middle Georgia. Specifically, the two places “responsible” for the writer that he has become are Knoxville, Tennessee and Milledgeville, Georgia. Since then, he has moved on to Chicago- for a brief stint- and New York City- for a significantly longer stay. Currently, he is “holed up” in a small town where when he is not writing, he tends to his “nature preserve” and his “back forty.” His goal is to surround his house with all sorts of vegetation so as to obscure it from the gaze of the “locals.” He is assisted in this task by his coonhound buddy and companion, Roma. J. H. Johns was a Pushcart nominee in 2018.
The following work is Copyright © 2024, and owned by Johann Johns and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
In Mexico?
The Boy
was sitting there,
between the bed
and
the curtain,
half-talking,
half-listening
when Al’s older brother
said it,
not out of the “blue,”
but in response
to one of those questions like-
“…how’s Aunt Angela?”
And,
had the Boy not been paying attention-
seeing as his mind
and
preparations
were consumed by
his imminent discharge-
he very easily could have
missed the “soft-voiced” answer-
“She’s still in Mexico.”
“Mexico?” the Boy thought,
wanted to ask-
but thought better of it-
yet,
asked nonetheless.
“Mexico?” he voiced.
The two of them looked at him-
almost dumbfounded.
“Yeah, Mexico,” Al finally said.
“Mexico- Mexico?”
“That’s right” he was told,
“it’s cheaper-
and
their health care is supposed to be
as good as anyone’s.”
The Boy wanted to say something like-
“Wow!” “Incredible!” “Are you serious?”
But,
seeing the singularity of commitment
on the other faces-
he simply said-
“Interesting.”
(and left it at that).
