THREE POEMS by COLIN JAMES

ONE JUST HAS TO BE SO VERY CAREFUL


Several statues of white angels have gone missing

from the Angelenos Cemetery.

I had been sleeping in a friend's car.

His wife was hesitant

to let me use the couch.

Even now she eyed me

from an upstairs bathroom window.

It will be very difficult for me

to get the last one over the fence.

The back seat was already

assonant with saints.

But the front seat still had room

for some ascendant crescendos.

 

THE ROBBING OF THE UNREMARKABLE


When moving from the comforts

of a small town to live in the big city,

always relocate near a brothel.

Voices in the dark have no shape

and fellatio can be endearing.

Mornings are just that,

screw tact and respectability.

The wind in your hair is from

that song you have always hated.

 

WE CAN BE FRIENDS OR WE CAN BE SONS OF BITCHES


I have already spoken to Brian

about hiring two thugs

to murder you.

Both Liverpool Stoics,

willing to perform the deed

for a full English breakfast.

But first you may have noticed

a small mountain of used appliances

deposited in your back garden.

Rusted dishwashers and clothes dryers.

I want you to suffer.

 

Colin James has a couple of chapbooks of poetry published. 'Dreams Of The Really Annoying' from Writing Knights Press and 'A Thoroughness Not Deprived of Absurdity' from Piski's Porch Press, and a book of poems, 'Resisting Probability,' from Sagging Meniscus Press. Formally from the UK, he now lives in Massachusetts.