3 Poems by Colin James
That Pestilent Fellow The Critical Reader
Hello, there's a field behind my house.
Bigger, stronger, faster persuaded
me to become an observer.
Turkish tobacco will make you sterile
where as Virginian has no propensities.
The Overtones are a group from Harlem
that dresses differently in spurts.
Accusations can not actually fly
but they sure can ruin a life. I insist
on meeting my dates in waiting rooms.
Large railway stations are the most welcoming.
Doctor's offices are a bit cramped.
I always book a table that seats four.
This leaves us plenty of extra elbow room.
My dates usually find the contrast charming.
Were The Nabokovs A One Nutcracker Family?
"I read forwards very fast."
Said the student enthusiast.
Have to keep an eye
on the kitchen metaphors
from my hallway hiding place
beneath the hanging hats and cloaks.
Occasionally a voice might ask,
"What became of our enthusiast?"
A diversionary ploy as they
rifle through the siverwear drawer.
Turns out it's not in a drawer at all
but hanging unobtrusively
from a newly painted placid wall.
Transect, Shorty, Transect
I told you
I'd meet you at nine.
I arrived at ten past
and low and behold
there you were
necking in the corner
with that spindly guy
in the Foster Grant sunglasses.
I am not going to
give you the satisfaction
of saying I'm disappointed,
although I find your
behavior LY adverb rude.
Still, better to know
now before a plethora
of similar disappointments
Colin James has poems recently in the New English Review
and Antonius Ring. He lives in Massachusetts
with two cats, Dorothy and Jane
Art by Landiva Weber