The Man Who Lives in the Gym
.St Procopius College
.after World War II
The man who lives in the gym
sleeps in a nook up the stairs
to the rear Since Poland
he’s slept there, his tools
bright in a box locked
under his bed At noon bells
call him down to the stones
that weave under oaks to the abbey
where he at long table takes
meals with the others
the monks have left in
for a week, or a month, or a year
or forever, whatever
the need The others all know
that in Poland his wife
had been skewered, his children
partitioned, that he had escaped
in a freight car of hams So when Brother brings in, on a gun
metal tray, orange sherbet for all
in little green dishes,
they blink at his smile,
they join in his laughter.
first published in print in The Davidson Miscellany
Vol 7 No, 2 1972, Davidson, NC
New Girl
Light ambrosia of the sun
is over all of her She is shy
the way the flicker
pink of rabbit eye
is shy Within the
almond hair, cliffs
of cheek round in, where
unifies her chin
There, two birds meet
before they carry out her smile
first published in print in Meridian Magazine
Vol 1 No 2, 1965, Evanston, IL 60202
Husband and Wife on Hassocks
Eating Sausage
He tries again to situate
the grosbeak nose beneath his spectacles He twists a toothpick in his teeth He hunches just a little more toward her,
saying “Listen, dear, I’ve said all this before,
and now you make me say it all again:
“You’re slovenly and gross Your jowls swing beneath your jaws like testicles Your mammoth breasts need tweezing Your freckled calves are carved of lard These things are true, my dear,
as they are and as I list them They’re not some crazed vision of conjecture.”
The lady belches, reaches for
a pickle spear, a slice of cervelat,
and begins to comb her yellow hair
She hunches just a little more toward him,
saying “Listen, dear, I’ve heard all this before What’s happened here is eminently clear You no longer love me.”
first published in print in Salt Lick Magazine
No 9-10, 1971, Baltimore, MD 21202
