January 28-February 3, 2002: Veronica Bruce and Dave Slater

week of January 28-February 3, 2002

Veronica Bruce and Dave Slater


click here for submission guidelines

Veronica Bruce

Bio (auto)

I’m Veronica Bruce from Beaumont, Texas Writing is one of those outlets i like to stick my finger into

The following work is Copyright © 2002, and owned by Veronica Bruce and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.


his checklist:

shake the rug out;
look in the mirror;
face the truth
throw out the old
underwear, socks
and undershirts
buy new hangers
remember the first day
you all moved in to the
house; smile; cry
buy new toothpaste,
shampoo, soap
and q-tips
make the bed
take your time on
walking out the
lock the door, and
drive out slowly;
check the mailbox;

hit the trashcans.

her checklist:

watch him walk
out the door
go explain to
your dogs what

my checklist:

buy another clock
(w/ an alarm)
buy new hangers
have seperate
underwear for
seperate houses
have seperate
socks for
seperate houses
buy different
color soaps, different color
towels for seperate houses
buy a new

kiss mom kiss dad.

Dave Slater

Bio (auto)

My name is Dave Slater and I have had poetry in small magazines over the years but a few years off before returning due to renewed interest in poetry online I live in Cumbria, UK and would like to hear from any other poets interested in poetry!

Visit Dave on the web here: http://www.mycgiserver.com/~daveaze77/index.html

The following work is Copyright © 2002, and owned by Dave Slater and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.

Polaroids Found

In the town room
Taking photographs of her intimate
Before she kneeled between his legs
Seeking-are we sure of this-
An awareness of the first time The repetition in the corner
Of the room and
After a certain deliberation,
On the bed Was anyone self conscious
As they imagined her in that room
Above or below them
In that building? Imagined her
Lying again in repetition
With her legs wide open Did they have a feeling for
This picture? Later
When she walked naked
To the kitchen, he cried The unfamiliar was now familiar
And the unbuttoning of her blouse
An act
Without any intimacy-like
Her putting on stockings
As he backed out of the door The pictures she pinned to the wall
For the next time.

After Love, After Death

No more wine, no more stained
Or morning airs in the room We are vanished
Like a candle
Burnt out in the dark,
With no one to see.

Subscribe to our weekly Newsletter: