Come Death
Clear sky and sweet breeze
Children's laughter and magnolia blossoms
Come, death, come quickly.
poem by Francis Santaquilani
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Hopeku
an angry golden sunrise burns
open her swollen black and purple eye, perhaps
only love and no pain today?
poem by Francis Santaquilani
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o9
lie, lie, lie, lie, lie
we won, won, won, won
you lost, lost, lost, lost
i, i, i, i, i, i, i, i, i, i, i, i
freedoms die, die, die, die, die
poem by Francis Santaquilani
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Triumphus
A man, made
In the image
Of God,
Became a
Beast, in the
Form of a man.
The beast
Sired a son,
Not a beast.
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poem by Francis Santaquilani
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Caw
The January wind
Freezes a crow
In mid-flight
And mid-caw
And suspends it
In the icy blue sky.
It's black eyes bulge.
Its caw,
Stuck on high,
Dogs me deep
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poem by Francis Santaquilani
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Broken Rhythm
A fat crow drops onto
The very tip of the top
Branch of a barren tree.
It sways with the branch
As if riding the hand
Of a metronome.
We're swept up in
The rhythm, the crow
The tree and me.
Then a hard gust
From the east
Or west and
The tree becomes a bull,
The crow a bullrider and
I'm on the edge of my seat
Waiting for something bad
To happen.
poem by Francis Santaquilani
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Flinch
A herron,
Staring straight
Into the cold wind,
Stands steady
On a branch
No thicker than
It's skinny legs,
And looks down at
Another herron
Standing in the river,
Also staring straight
into the cold wind,
Its skinny legs battered
By cold, choppy
Waves launched in
A tugboat's wake.
My thick calves
And thighs shiver
Under my heavy pants.
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poem by Francis Santaquilani
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Not A Poem
It's flush left,
The first letter
In each line is
Capitalized, and
I use a simile, but
It's more police report
Than poem.
At just past 7 a.m.,
On a Saturday,
My father slapped my face.
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poem by Francis Santaquilani
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