Poems by Robbie Gamble
Death By A Thousand Cuts
Disclosure hangs in the air, thick as the humidity.
Everyone smokes, everyone lies, everyone carries
that little ice ball in the crook of the stomach.
Over a cluttered suburban horizon, marriages
implode in small showers
of vacuum-tube mercury.
The dial dulls, falls silent. Resurges. Spews static.
Over these shabby rehab lawns
squirrels loll, not yet fat,
as summer withers down.
Why should they care?
The nutmeats in their caches aren't talking.
Disclosure hangs in the air, thick as the humidity.
Everyone smokes, everyone lies, everyone carries
that little ice ball in the crook of the stomach.
Over a cluttered suburban horizon, marriages
implode in small showers
of vacuum-tube mercury.
The dial dulls, falls silent. Resurges. Spews static.
Over these shabby rehab lawns
squirrels loll, not yet fat,
as summer withers down.
Why should they care?
The nutmeats in their caches aren't talking.
The Scales Fall Away
Well, yes,
I was found
to be swelling
the ranks of this nation
of petty addicts. We wandered
the landscape, our blinkers askew.
There were thresholds everywhere,
and we scuffed them all
with our little cloven angel feet.
Eventually, we learned not
to ruminate on justice, but to stand
back and watch the skies,
and then we began to discover untended parcels
left on our morning subway commutes. Sometimes
we even ignored the security warnings,
and opened them. Of course, we continued
to hoist up daily on callused knees,
anointing each other with spit and sacred mud,
floundering in our ever-widening vision.
Well, yes,
I was found
to be swelling
the ranks of this nation
of petty addicts. We wandered
the landscape, our blinkers askew.
There were thresholds everywhere,
and we scuffed them all
with our little cloven angel feet.
Eventually, we learned not
to ruminate on justice, but to stand
back and watch the skies,
and then we began to discover untended parcels
left on our morning subway commutes. Sometimes
we even ignored the security warnings,
and opened them. Of course, we continued
to hoist up daily on callused knees,
anointing each other with spit and sacred mud,
floundering in our ever-widening vision.
| r-kv-r-y winter 2005 poetry archives Joseph Mockus Kris McHaddad Michael O'Brien Maria Ercilla Diane Payne Liz Dolan |
Robbie Gamble is a nurse practitioner who
works with the homeless, helping them gain
access to health care. His poetry has been
published in Poesy, Edgz, The Christian Science
Monitor, Ibbetson St., and Nerve Cowboy.
works with the homeless, helping them gain
access to health care. His poetry has been
published in Poesy, Edgz, The Christian Science
Monitor, Ibbetson St., and Nerve Cowboy.
POEM
I have
no one
but God
who is
everyone.
Tim Bellows
I have
no one
but God
who is
everyone.
Tim Bellows