Skip to main content

Matthew Borczon

Souls

(1)

hard
to dispute
the logic
of a
5 year old
Eliza wakes
up shaking
crying she
calls my
name

she is
afraid of
dying again
this feeling
swallows her
like a
hand inside
a pocket.

(2)

As I
hug her I
stroke her
hair and
give her
the Catholic
answers my
parents gave
me at
her age

don’t worry
it’s a
long long
way off
and when
it does
happen I
will be
waiting with
grandpa and
all your
family

Eliza’s voice
breaks
“Daddy
I’m the
youngest
so I
will have
to be
alone for
so long”

I think
she cries
her weight
in tears.

(3)

I can
only hold her
feel scared
I know
alone
it has
ridden
my shoulder
daily since
the war

I know
fear
of death
I have
held a
dead child’s
body and
handed it
back to
its father

I know
fear of life
after war
fear for
men without
legs or arms
fear of
my own life
without faith
with almost
no soul left

fear of
crowds and
the feeling
that no
matter how
many people
are around
I am still
dying alone
by minutes
and inches.

(4)

I say
nothing
just pull
her close
cry with her
in silence
as I
promise
to her
to me
to the universe
and every
religions God
that I
will get
some of
my soul
back

buy it
steal it
reclaim it
rebuild it
out of
something
or out
of nothing
some how
some way
I will
have it
so I
can leave
it with
her when
I go.


Matthew Borczon is a nurse and Navy sailor. He is the author of a Clock of Human Bones from Yellow Chair Review Press, and Battle Lines from Epic Rites Press. His next book, Ghost Train, will be out in June 2017 from Weasel Press.  Sleepless Nights and Ghost Soldiers is set for a release in 2017 from Grey Boarders Press as well. He publishes widely in the small press. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

David Oliver Cranmer

Not Just Another Playlist Often, I sit in my swivel chair looking out the window, while jazz, country, or rock music plays. This pleasure goes on for many hours a mystic trance of sorts streaming—the glue maintaining my soul. I turn the best songs into playlists (once we called them mix tapes) puzzling over the perfect order. Does Satchmo’s “What a Wonderful World” kick off my latest list or make it the big soulful closer? And does “Mack the Knife” go higher in the set than “Summertime?” That’s an Ella Fitzgerald duet! “Foolishness? No, it’s not” whether you are climbing a tree to count all the leaves or tapping to beats. These are the joys that bring inner peace and balance (to a cold universe) lifting spirits skyward. David Oliver Cranmer ’s poems, short stories, articles, and essays have appeared in publications such as Punk Noir Magazine , The Five-Two: Crime Poetry Weekly , Needle: A Magazine of Noir , LitReactor , Macmillan’s Criminal Element , and

Amy Holman

My mother made herself the deer with a broken leg  We saw a deer through the pane into someone else’s yard. The leg moved like a tube sock pinned to the hip  and half filled with sticks. I did not like to see it suffer, either. She was upset —my mother —that no one helped  the doe. Was it a mother, too? As if we were the first to observe the scene. We weren’t. All had been told to let her be. My mother had suffered a destruction  of the self, a divorce, and no one cared. That wasn’t true.  We were grown, on our own. I agree it was hard. Yet  in those moments of a cold November day, we watched  a doe, disabled and enduring, walk across a yard and eat  a hedge. I wish she could have seen it like that. Amy Holman is the author of the collection, Wrens Fly Through This Opened Window (Somondoco Press, 2010) and four chapbooks, including the prizewinning Wait for Me, I’m Gone (Dream Horse Press, 2005). Recent poems have been in or accepted by Blueline,

Corey Mesler

  I think of you tonight, my Beats I think of you tonight, my Beats, and I am grateful.  I walked the narrow lanes of Academia and never felt at home. There were men and women in the flowerbeds, their heads full of theorems and poems. There were teachers who could lift their own weight in prose.  I was lonely. I was too loose.  I was a lad from the faraway country of Smarting. But I had you as so many before me. I had you and I knew secret things. I could count on you like a percussion. And now I want to say: I love you.  If not for you, what? I want to say. If Allen Ginsberg did not exist it would be necessary to invent him.  COREY MESLER has been published in numerous anthologies and journals including Poetry, Gargoyle, Five Points, Good Poems American Places, and New Stories from the South . He has published over 25 books of fiction and poetry. His newest novel, The Diminishment of Charlie Cain , is from Livingston Press. He also wrote the screenplay for We Go On , which won The Me