Archive for the April 2010 Category

The Phone Call

Posted in April 2010, Poetry on April 19, 2010 by Black Coffee Press LIMITED

The phone rings.

A static voice starts
to speak.

“We haven’t heard
from
your mother in the
last two days.”

“Have you seen
her?”

“No.”

“Your stepfather
called.
He hasn’t talked
to her either.”

He was in Florida
visiting his family
for
the holidays.

While she was
chowing down on

pills.

“I’ll try to find
her.”

What can I do?
My kids are with me,
there is no way
I
can take them
to her house.

Not when I already
know what

she’s done.

I call my brother
he’s at
work.

I tell him about
the phone call.

We both know.

She thrives on
drama.

She was mad at
her husband for
leaving.

The phone rings.

“I found her. The
ambulance is on its
way.”

fuck.

For seventeen years I
took care of her.

When I was too
young.

I left to live my own
life and came back,

married with children.

After her breakdown
I gave up my life

again.

to take care of her.

Now that things had
gone back to normal,

she was at work,
things were supposed to

get better

now she was back
on a regular

path, she couldn’t have
that. She missed the

attention.

But what do I do?
I’ll have to go.
I’ll have to give
up my

freedom.

again.

I stand over
her

comatose body.

empty

The nurse comes in.

“Her husband called.
He’s back from Florida.
He says he’s tired. He’s
going

home.”

While I stand over
my mother’s

comatose body.

K.M. McElhinny is writer and poet of the dark and the in between. She chased the white rabbit down the writing hole over a year ago and is not trying to find her way home. She has been published with Smidge Magazine and Flashes in the Dark.  Please visit her at her blog http://randomthoughtsofawriterygirl.blogspot.com/

Sick Day Home, Chicago

Posted in April 2010, Poetry on April 2, 2010 by Black Coffee Press LIMITED

Across the street (Chills)—
A criminal rolls off the wet
Blanket he has pledged himself
To until the memory runs out. In
The commotion of spent breaths
He chooses to proclaim: “Radiator
Heat is the most reliable heat.”

In the Loop (Muscle Aches)—
A wannabe angel paces greedily
Under a clearly dubious sense of
Displacement, bumps into a criminal
Who exits an alleyway; a criminal
Who has his whole life staked out
A detached pursuit of choice.

Somehow within (Nausea)—
I stand flesh-peculiar behind the sweaty
Disguise of a picture window, and I
Instruct criminality to score peril,
To seek back its burdened blush from
Bone, to disconnect for the slanted
Sentiment of a wet snowstorm.

John Hospodka is the author of South Side Trilogy www.bohemianpupil.com