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UNSOLICITED THOUGHTS

an ongoing series of essays, reviews, and general buffoonery by Colin Kohrs

5 Poems In Which The Speaker Is This Empty Box Of Cheez-Its I Found On A Bus

1/3/2019

1 Comment

 
Colin Kohrs
Photo Credit: Colin Kohrs
Save me.

1) "The Glutton"

After Sylvia Plath
​

He, hunger-strung, hard to slake,
So fitted is for my orange luck
(With mildness such as no man could taste
And yet keep kind)
That all merit's in being cheddar
Seasoned how he'd most approve;
Blood's starch
Snatched by his hand
Choice snack food makes, baked crisp,
Thrown in bright cardboard;
Through prime crumble cram each rich square.
He'll not spare
Nor scant his want until
Abandoned box gone bare but for
Plastic liner.

2) "Coming Back"

After Rupi Kaur, but actually
After Li-Young Lee, and
For Delta Eddy

they whisper
he isn't coming back
now that my
baked white cheddar
has run cold
left to shimmy softly
alone and empty
on this
empty bus

I try to whisper
but make no sound
Picture

3) "December 16th: Route 2"

For Jim Armstrong

I only know      the salt-and-slushy                  floor
the piercing buzz                  of incandescent lights
the wave of cold               with every opened door
the vagrants making best          their lonely nights
when I was    your     white-cheddar  masterpiece
you saw past my nutrition facts                  and ate
me out                    my box in hungry subtle peace
this bus trip was no honeymoon                but fate 
I longed to leave my cheese dust on your thumbs
so you might suck it off                 just like the rest
you used me.              I now see you loved me not
a plastic liner            filled          unwanted crumbs
now left           alone       inside a cardboard chest
to ride the bus until the day                             I rot

4. "Four Sides Of Left Alone"

Picture

5. "You Left Me On The Bus"

You bought me from a grocery store;
you said you'd loved nothing before;
like I; you always wanted more:
you left me on the bus.

I gave you love and until hurt,
a box snack or odd dessert;
you rubbed my dust off on your shirt:
you left me on the bus.

Over fifty servings in my box,
and then you went and changed the locks,
you disrespectful little fox:
you left me on the bus.

You seemed the type to always care;
you seemed the type who acted fair;
you ate me til my box was bare:
you left me on the bus.

I'll never feed a soul again;
I'm emptier than ever been,
a final fatal heartbreak when
you left me on the bus.
1 Comment
Rachel Kleber
4/6/2018 08:33:49 pm

I’ll never look at pollution, whether on bus or in ditch, quite the same again! Love this!

Reply



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