Poetic License: August 2001 Online Poetry Journal

Untitled
by Zeke

"Childhood"
by Sarah Bonifacio

"That Beat, I Hear It"
by Megan Diamondstein

Untitled
by A.M. Smith

Relic (Memento)
by Ramon Contrera

Untouchable Face
by Daniel Sanders

Untitled
by Farrah Fidler

Creeping Light
by VB

unfamiliar ceiling
by Taneka Stotts

A Lost Love
by P. Withers

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"Childhood"
by Sarah Bonifacio

Mister benjamin a. platypus,
dressed in the usual gray
trenchcoat, silver island patches for
hair, black bead eyes --
passed away at the eighth of july,
nineteen ninety-six.

They robbed him of his first
initials, not long after,
and was, in no time,
reincarnated
into - simply, Platypus -
nothing more.

He gazes down at us with
scorn;
in misery so bitter he curses
water -- To think he did not
fight nor struggle when

Two grit hands tore at his
chest (ripped and tore until) out his sobbing heart
jolted,
landed tender and warm and partially
palpitating in the bottom of a trash can;
the lungs like white spiffs of
clouds;
white-white spiffs cold-floating
on two palms --

And, no, it isn't so awful.
I, fortunately, have forgotten too soon.
the girl here cries as she fumbles
with your bones.
she glides to times when you
wore a cape - heroic and bright
with a P inscribed at the
middle.
you nibbled on synthetic biscuits
and oxygenated coffee,
remember?

there were grass blankets
and picnic-wicker baskets
and relatives with no eyes
or hands
or ears
or noses --
It wasn't all numbers.

Now she breathes in your ashes and
smiles:
your tears lie transparent in
the rivers;
hers like autumn rain;
hers as permanent as vapor -

She cannot retrieve it, no.
but now, at least, it is
realized.