RSS 2.0 FeedIn the Queue at the Supermarket
I am in the supermarket
Checkout line
And it is finally starting
To move
I put down the National
Enquirer to gape
At the cover photo
Of the young Afghani woman
On Time magazine
I do not know if her nose
Was blown off
Or cut off
By us or them or unknown parties
Gazing at the young woman
In the photo
I feel like someone
Returning to
The scene of the crime
To mutilate my victim
A second time
I quit placing
Hamburger and cherries
Upon the conveyer belt
And stare
Into the young woman’s eyes
Until another young woman
The clerk scanning groceries
Rolls her eyes
Inflates her nostrils
And fixes her mouth
In unlimited exasperation
And asks me why
Oh why
I am holding up
Her supermarket checkout line
Steven Gulvezan has wandered in the magical world of words from an early age. Unable to make a living as a writer of fiction and poetry, he has put bread on the table as a journalist and a librarian. He believes that the job of the poet is to bring the arrangement of symbols upon a piece of paper as close to the reality of the heart as possible. He considers himself a disciple in words of the great sculptor Alberto Giacometti – he attempts to scrape away layer upon layer of the mask of fiction to get at an inner reality; but, of course, with each layer he exposes, he discovers another layer of fiction – not reality – beneath it. At its best he hopes that his poetry is able to cut close enough to the bone of truth to make it worthwhile to read.