John Grey

UNCLE BERT TOOK CARE OF HIS GARDEN

Uncle Bert
sat on his porch
hose on his lap
spraying his petunias.

Eyes blank,
face serene,
he gave the impression of someone
taking the world's longest piss.

Some flowers drowned.
Others barely saw a drop.
He didn't care.
Those damned things
bloomed anyhow.

Once I saw him
lift that hose a little
to spray a dog.
It was hot that day.
The animal didn't complain.

He had one kid.
I reckon sex with Aunt Bree
was probably
as indifferent, as cursory,
as the way he watered his garden.

Maybe the time they made Tommy,
he just lifted his hose a little.
And she could have been hot that day.
And; for once in her life, didn't complain.


John Grey is an Australian born poet. Recently published in The Lyric, Vallum and the science fiction anthology, “The Kennedy Curse” with work upcoming in Bryant Literary Magazine, Natural Bridge, Southern California Review and the Pedestal.

Current Issue:
June 2014

Taylor Emily Copeland
Steve DeFrance
Mitchell Grabois
John Grey
Richard Luftig
Mary McCall
Simon Perchik
Tim Pilgrim
April Salzano

Home