Vincent Poturica
House keeping
Because I’m cultivating
a friendship with Death.
And because my wife
loves me as I am,
I’m not so bothered by
the clouds pretending
to be turds, or by the
seagulls squawking a
terrific chorus of Fuck
you. The alley behind
our building is not a river.
Capitalism is not capable
of fair play. I can’t levitate
silverware with my mind.
But today I will clean the
kitchen with reverence.
international development
once upon a time
seven years ago
while trying to survey
a section of el petén
by counting our footsteps
I asked the village elder
leading the way
how much farther
we needed to walk
before stopping for lunch
(I was hungry & the
bees would not stop
sucking the sweat
from my t-shirt)
the man smiled
at me & the bees
(his shirt was dry)
then he opened his mouth
& pointed at the pink stub
where his tongue
should have been
the army cut it out
luis explained
(luis had been a soldier)
I said claro & nodded
& the village elder began
walking again in his slow
limping way & I realized
that what I’d thought was
the wind rushing between
the trees or possibly
the low hum of the bees
was the sound of this man
without a tongue
trying to whistle
The extra ridge on my shoulder leftover from my twice-broken collarbone. Also, a top made from an acorn that an old man gave me in a park near the St. Louis Zoo. And a marble egg that I won in a Turkish raffle (I was told that it would boost my fertility). I like scars and unexpected gifts.
Vincent Poturica's writing has appeared or is forthcoming in
New England Review, DIAGRAM,Birkensnake, New Ohio Review, and other journals. He liveswith his wife in Long Beach, CA, where he teaches English at Cerritos College and Chadwick School. Sometimes he tweets @vpoturica.