Trending »
Related »

FOURTEEN STATIONS, NO PRIEST — SANDER ZULAUF

on July 3 | in Poetry | by | with No Comments

i
 
good friday

heading south

in a black car

 
to an evening

stations of the cross—

piano, violins—

 
on the way

two buzzards

sharing

 
the bloody carcass

of a run-over mink

they’d dragged across

 
the street

to the brown weeds

edging the woods

 
standing with the carcass

between them

their death-angel wings open

 
they rip through fur

eating

enough

 
to expose

the bones

and bloody flesh

 
they peck at it

and pull it

apart

 
ii
 
on the way

back home

at half past nine

 
it’s too dark

to see

the mink’s body

 
nobody

would regret

the mink’s loss

 
except

perhaps

the buzzards

 
nobody next day

would look to see

if that mink

 
had been devoured

except perhaps

me

 
a joseph

of arimathea

curious

 
about death

and my friend

sharon’s

 
twenty-six-year-old son jay

who died

yesterday

 
in california

nowhere to be seen

ever again

 
the shock

a bomb

to her

 
the shock

unbearable

she so loved him

 
tears for her

& we helpless

in her loss

 
iii
 
madeline tells me

she dreams

she’s in a house

 
riddled with doors

and suddenly she’s

outside at a wedding

 
when two giant

white birds

lift me up

 
out of the crowd

and fly away

with me

 
i ask her

“did you yell

‘drop the keys!’?”

 
she says

the next thing

she sees

 
is me

coming around

the corner at kb’s

 
just fine,

the swans set me down

i am back

 
from my

disneyworld

ride

 
iv
 
will we all

be coming back

forever?

 
is this

a karma world

or something else?

 
after all

the paining struggles

of this life

 
do we

get to choose

how we live

 
the next one,

if there is

a next one,

 
or is it

determined

by how we lived

 
this one?

does

a murderer

 
become a fly

smacked by

a swatter,

 
then a flea

bitten by

a dog,
then a dog,
 

who, knowing

human love

 
at last,

resolves to

never never

 
and becomes

a loving child

raised

 
by loving parents

when suddenly

killed

 
in a bad accident

to start

over again

 
as a mink

until a car

ignores

 
and kills it

and two buzzards

in andover

 
new jersey

make

a last supper

 
of your

immortal

carcass
 
 
Sander Zulauf is editor emeritus of the Journal of New Jersey Poets and an editor of The Poets of New Jersey: From Colonial to Contemporary. In addition to editing the first ten years of the Index of American Periodical Verse, his books of poetry include Succasunna New Jersey, Living Waters, and Where Time Goes. His new work includes the “transfigurations” of haiku by Bashō, and ­his translation of Veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada (Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair) by Pablo Neruda. His newest book, Basho in America, won the Eric Hoffer award.

Pin It

Related Posts

« »

Recent Posts

News

Safia Elhilo

2 Poems

Michele Robinson\'s Art [...]

Let Me Straddle Your Mind

X.J. Kennedy

The Crusader

Why did you leave bring m [...]

Yeah bring our electric shaver back, I bought it we shaved each others back it was important to me and

Kwame Dawes

Kwame Dawes

BEFORE YOU – Kwame  [...]

1 Yes, we were country, lived in shotgun shacks, where the road loses its way to dirt and live oaks

MENSTRUAL FLOWERS – [...]

[new_royalslider id="11"] Courtesy of the artist and Mizuma Art Gallery  

WHAT THE WOMB ISN’T [...]

         "Feminism is a socialist, anti-family, political movement that encourages women to leav

JUNOT DIAZ

Junot' Diaz and Edison, NJ

EDISON, NEW JERSEY – [...]

The first time we try to deliver the Gold Crown the lights are on in the house but no on

Rachel Eliza Griffiths [...]

Elegy & Poem

The March on Washington:  [...]

OTHER WORLD: A Conversati [...]

"We are all the other."

I OPEN A BOX

…and find inside a picture, of myself as a child, sitting on a small chair, wearing overalls and sho

Naive Paintings

Raphael Perez

CIRCLES OF THE MOON & [...]

To Alex, on turning two Some say the Ring of Brogar is the Circle of the Moon. There is n

In This Issue

March on Washington An Interview with Cheryl Evans

5 POINTZ: GRAFFITI MECCA  [...]

In a strange twist of what seemed like reverse vandalism, the Graffiti Mecca was painted over.

In This Issue

Forest Gander A Translation

In This Issue

Quassan Castro, poem Grandson to Grandmother

URBAN CANVAS: Wynwood Wal [...]

Wynwood Walls, of Miami has been called "a Museum of the Streets."

Pulaski Skyway

Low like the mean dream of Newark the sky must have seemed to its builders. Rickety now, unhinging, I

THE SPAN & OTHER POE [...]

At last, the extremes of his present methods seemed to offer the happiest avenues. The strengthening

Paul Latorre

5th Limb Poems

Joan Larkin

Poem, Knot

Gina Loring, Def Poetry [...]

Poem, Look This Way

In This Issue

Xue Du, Poem

AT THE END OF THE DREAM I [...]

A woman      in a black kimono      dyed black hair disappeared      behind a black curtain I

Marge Piercy

Poem: Behind the War On Women

Naive Paintings

Raphael Perez

Marie Miazziotti -Gillam [...]

Maria Mizzotti-Gillan

Vicky Dantel

Short Story

In This Issue

Pilar Fraile Amador poem

Quassan Castro

Poem

Lugensky Durosier [...]

Lady Haiti

In This Issue

David Trinidad

In This Issue

Landzy Theodore

In This Issue

Angelo Nikolopoulos

Scroll to top