Poetry — June 4, 2012 20:20 — 0 Comments

Bread and Salt – R L Swihart

After (as though brushing past her in the dark)
Ingeborg Bachmann

Here heaven (not sky) has taken another bite
from a crisp apple

No one’s misquoting Tertullian


Before she wakes he and the pug take their favorite loop—
through the park, along the golf course, over the pontoon bridge

Now sand-sugared paws pad over wet grass


She tears off a corner of her toast and hands it to him

This close to St. Paddy’s Flann sends in a little man carrying
the twenty-ninth chest to tip over the salt

Incoming sun and blind slats stripe the table, clothes
and two faces

They have debts, they have a house


R L Swihart currently lives in Long Beach, CA, and teaches high school mathematics in Los Angeles. His poems have appeared in various online and print journals, including Barnwood Magazine, Bateau, elimae, Rhino, and 1110. His first collection of poems, The Last Man, is forthcoming in March 2012 by Desperanto Press.

*thumbnail image by Aubrey Hays

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What am I?

Bioluminescent eye
That sees by the shine
Of its own light. Lies

Blind me. I am the seventh human sense
And my stepchild,

Scientists can't find me.

Januswise I make us men;
Was my image then—

Remind me:

The awful fall up off all fours
From the forest
To the hours…

Tick, Tock: Divine me.

-- Richard Kenney