Don Kloss

Look Upon Me, And See

My desire for you is a plate glass window.
You look right through it, don't even see
your reflection. The rain hits the panes

like mercury tears, but goes unnoticed.
I'd like to crack when the winter frost
paints its silver scenery on me.

Then perhaps you would see,
would notice my flaws, if nothing else,
and I would not feel so tight in my frame.




Doing Time

Although I have committed no crime
I am behind bars, in jail, your prisoner.

This is not the first time I have been locked
away in here. I have been out on parole.

This is typical me. I meet someone,
become a manic super ball

of emotions, and too soon find myself
on death row.

I sit here now on my bunk in my orange
jump suit, getting a prison tat that states,

Waiting for you.




One

One is ragged and melancholy,
it pulls the collar of its coat
tight around its neck as it walks
solemn into a frigid wind.
One has a face of stone, eyes
of alabaster, lips of rock salt,
coif of tombstone granite.
No lover to go to, no mother
to harbor it, it comes to my door
seeking quarter, but I
don't answer the bell--
I already hold its brother inside.


Don Kloss is a New Jersey poet and musician consumed by wine and restlessness. He has been published in a number of journals, including US 1 Worksheets, The Edison Literary Review, The Hobo Camp Review, Chantarelle's Notebook, Decompression, and yes, Thick With Conviction. His poem, Upon Her Leaving, I Think, was nominated for the Best of the Net in 2010, and his poem, The Icepick Surgeon was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2006.
 

Current Issue:
January 2013

Mandy Jo Angleberger
Natalie Carpentieri
Holly Day
James H. Duncan
Don Kloss
Kirby Light
Raina Masters
Linda Price

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