Jul/Aug 2008 Poetry

Two Poems

by John Grochalski

cat vomit

i get on the floor
and try to figure out how
to get dried cat vomit
off the wood.
those two whore cats!
they eat like romans
and then they beach themselves
on me
at night
while i'm fending off the work dreams
and nightmares.
anyway, i think of using
a knife
to get the vomit up
but then i picture spreading
butter on toast
or cutting a pork chop
and i think again.
we have only four spoons
in the place now,
from what calamities
i don't remember.
so I get a paper towel
and wet it
but it does nothing
except illuminate the vomit.
the cats watch me
and then they go off and eat again.
i get up to take a piss
and when i'm done
i remember to put the garbage can
square under the pipe of the bowl
to collect the water that shoots
in springs from the leak
like a pretty water fountain
in a foreign city.


talking love with a seven-year-old

some boy gave her
a lollipop,
then she whispered
in my ear
and asked me
if i ever had
a girlfriend
when I was younger.
i told her no
that the girls never
seemed to like me
although i always
thought that i was
a nice enough
she seemed
to accept that
how I still


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