Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Joe Marchia: Three Poems


The Adam Bomb

and it was right to build beautiful things.
He said touching the rib

tender like a wound. They've built
the Adam

that crushed thousands of
ribs like yours

He said, sensually
stroking he said

Touch me tell
me I'm

a statistic.

Lonely Again In Autumn

Last autumn’s nostalgia hangs in the
air like the brisk wind of the season.
I want to live again like I did in that time.
Walk the same streets a year older;
revisiting old memories tied
to the senses. The sensational reverberation
of seeing an old friend with a
coy smile. The faint optimism
of a naive dreamer on my tongue.

Teeth to Bare

Coffee breathes in wisps that stain the
brown furniture and bookstore chain

seats. Me and you, opposite, talk
of the latest mad stories I can't

believe thats how it is now. You
are only in town now to tell me
stories because your eyes are

frozen over and sterile. You used
to be better than me at being

a human being, what happened
to empathy? Squeaky- chair with
bad posture sitting eyes fixed to

facial imperfections; a new twitch
you picked up with no charm like

a fish nailed to wood. Unlike your
old smile, no teeth to bare.

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