Blue Reflection

Do not put Picasso in a love poem.
His image might distort perception

and lead to periods of blue reflection
instead of pretending everything is rosy.

Do not let Picasso leave your poem
analyzed, broken up, and reassembled,

which could have your readers
scratching their heads, thinking,

“I don’t get it.” Do not put Picasso
in a poem you write about harmony.

He might question your understanding
of well-known truths. Do not put

Picasso in a poem in which you already
think you know the ending.

"Blue Reflection" was published in issue #43 (May 2024) of Shot Glass Journal.

Eric
 

Untouched

Upon learning my love language
equals “acts of service”
and yours is “physical touch,”
 
            you refused
to ask me for anything—
not a single favor—
lest I express my affection too loudly.
 
You could not let yourself
value my help. You would not listen,
 
which I guess is only fair,
 
since I am rife with trust issues
and can hardly bear to be touched.
I would hold you, if I could.
 
I would shop for groceries,
do your laundry, walk the dogs,
clean the house, mow the lawn.
 
            I suppose 
we had a conversation breakdown
because we do not share
a common tongue.
 
Expressions of love and loyalty
are lost in translation.

 

 

"Untouched" was included in Issue 8 (the Spring 2024 issue) of LEVITATE, the Literary and Art Magazine of the Chicago High School for the Arts.

 Eric

2024 A Book of the Year

    Sometimes the Victim
 

I saw Lady Liberty tossed
into a cage, like a child, curled
into a corner, battered and in tears.
I did not see Justice. She
 
has been kidnapped and sold
to the deep pockets and the
corporate-jet party people.
I heard the good-old-boy network
 
laughing in the background
on speaker phone. The ransom
has been paid by the highest
bidder, with strings attached.
 
Equity has gone AWOL,
and we point our sticky fingers
at anyone other than ourselves.
Sometimes the victim
 
carries the unprovoked,
unearned guilt with them—
the raised  torch, the blindfold,
the mini-skirt and high heels,
 
the glass ceiling, “sweetheart,”
middle-aged, white, male privilege,
the bacon (for bringing home and
frying), the pan itself. Of course,
 
the Ozzie-and-Harriet family;
the traditional, society-sanctioned,
overly commercial, utterly soulless,
artificial archetype of a man.

"Sometimes the Victim" was the winner of contest #32,  the "Courage Award," in the 2023 Annual Contests held by the Poetry Society of Texas.  

-
 
    Contrarian
 

He is and, from now on,
will always be a Midwesterner,
as he may have always been
in spirit.
 
Reverse migration.
 
        For all his life
the Bible was belted firmly
around his neck.
 
His blood remains abundantly spicy,
like East Texas venison chili
or Cajun gumbo.
 
        But now,
he dons his newly acquired,
iron-oxide suspenders.
 
He has migrated backward in time
to the heart
of a region where history
was built
 
with bare hands,
 
where the foundation for global expansion
and all forward progress
was fatefully laid. He is now
a loyal Midwesterner.
 
        Go east,
young man. Go east.

"Contrarian" was the winner of contest #53, the "Anthony Dickson Memorial Award," in the 2023 Annual Contests held by the Poetry Society of Texas.  

-

    A Day in a Life
 

Before I even speak to the mirror, I need
coffee and lots of it. Only then can I wet and
dry my hair in our old-fashion wash basin.
Every morning, I pour the preheated water
from an ornate porcelain pitcher with
 
Grecian scenery etched upon it to rinse my
hair of lather, in search of body and shine.
I wipe foam from my freshly shaved face
just in time to stumble my way into the
kitchen to make breakfast for all four dogs,
 
leash them up, and walk around the block.
Morning is over too quickly, as always, and
noon rushes in, heralding a hectic routine.
On to a dozen afternoon chores, without a
pause in my schedule for a sit-down meal.
 
Quickly, I swallow a cheeseburger, then I am
ready for my next meeting, which is only
seven streets away with traffic and begins in
ten minutes. I will need to make it there in
under nine, so I have time to integrate the
 
video equipment. Recalculating my route
while waiting at another red light, I arrive
x-actly on time. At the close of a crazy day,
your smile still brings me calm and fills my
zzzzzzs with pleasant dreams, till morning.

 

"A Day in a Life" was the winner of contest #90, the "It's All Alphabetical" award for abecedarians, in the 2023 Annual Contests held by the Poetry Society of Texas.  

-

These three award-winning poems are included in the 2024 A Book of the Year, published by the Poetry Society of Texas. Thank you to the sponsors and judges.

Eric