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

Go with God

She says it under her breath
as I walk out the door

every day, as if 
she thinks I cannot hear her—

half wanting
half not wanting me

to hear her—
because she knows

I am atheist
and she is afraid

I may try to force 
my beliefs on her.

She says it under her breath
as I walk out the door,

always in a whisper
to try to save my soul,

a directive,
whether I like it or not. 

Go with God, she says. 
I will go without.

-


"Go with God" is published in the Fall 2023 issue of The Bayou Review.

Eric

Grapes of Wrath

I am wine as it comes 

from a bottle or a box. I am nectar

of the gods, 

stomped under men’s feet, 

placed in a cask or casket,

in damp cellars. I am

sweet and slightly toxic.

I have legs. I will give you 

my warm body, my delicate, 

almost acrid nose. I will

knock you on your sweet ass.

I am fine wine. I am

the grapes God—

the one true god’s wrath.

As the day breaks, I am

another pressurized cranium,

a numb reminder of excess,

a subtle sense of regret,

stomped under men’s feet.

 

-
  
"Grapes of Wrath" received a 3rd-place award in Ohio Poetry Day 2022 poetry contest #12, Non-traditional Narrator. It is published in the contest's compilation book, Ohio Poetry Day: Best of 2022.

Eric