Observations  In  Lieu  Of  An  Elegy

 

Scooter Monzingo is dead.

The weather is crisp, the streets

Are exceptionally clean.

His wife is amazed at how

Natural he looks, the way

His fingers gracefully mesh.

 

It is six o’clock.  In Rome,

In a cheap villa, a young

American housewife is

Seducing a gigolo.

She insists his name is Frank.

What an ugly word!  Franck thinks.

 

It is six o’clock.  Demure

Millie Hobbes is pawning her

Gramophone.  She has plans, big

Plans.  Someday her neighbors will

See her and say, Who would have

Thought it?  She can hardly wait.

 

It is six o’clock.  Rainstorms

Lash the coast of Uruguay.

In a crowded marketplace,

A slow-eyed senorita

Has begun to menstruate

For the first time.  People stare.

 

If he were alive today,

Scooter Monzingo would say

4,800 words,

Move 700 muscles,

Eat over 3 pounds of food,

And breathe.  Which is average.
 

The  Miracle

 

Who could ever imagine this breach

Of sun?  Not even the priests

Grazed by the moon and eager

To serve could say for sure.  Oh,

They fasted, wept, and prayed.  With

The passion of despair, they

Brought hundreds to the knife.  Lord,

The stench.  Baskets stuffed with soft

Steaming entrails.  But nowhere

Was an answer to be found.

Encouraged, then, by what they

Could not see, they counted up

Their blessings in disguise.  They

Danced, they sang, they fell back on

Tradition and, praising all

Such miracles of mystery,

They blessed the bloody fields.

 

by Paul Lubenkov

 

After a lengthy career as an executive with Eastman Kodak and Fuji Photo Film, I have returned full circle to my first post graduate job:  College Instructor.  Although it is certainly intimidating to return to the classroom, it is incredibly rewarding to be able to give back. Poems recently published and accepted for publication in The Sierra Nevada Review, The Stillwater Review, The Outrider Review, River Poets Journal, Falling Star Magazine, and The Tule Review.

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