Sunday 5 June 2022

Three Poems by Steve Klepetar


Tall in our Bones


Let us wake to another morning, 

somewhere when the hours melt 

away, somewhere we can stand 

and stretch slowly, tall in our bones. 


Let us wait to speak, let us listen.

We could spend everything we own 

in this garden, by this lake, where 

this river runs toward the sea. 


Let us breathe, let us fill our lungs 

with sweet air, let lightning blast 

our worries into smoke. There is 

no tomorrow, no yesterday, only 


this moment when our hands spill 

spun gold onto the thirsty ground.



The Kid With the Drum


appears down the street 

sometimes, early when mist 


hugs the lakeshore. 

It’s a small drum 


and he beats it slowly, softly 

with the palm of his hand. 


Days when he arrives, 

stepping out of clouds 


or rising from the water 

to the uneven sound 


of bullfrogs and bees, I stand 

by the picture window 


and watch him, his small body 

indistinct, more shadow 


than blood and bone. 

I stand and watch him work 


his small hand over the tight 

skin of that drum, 


and now the morning 

birds are singing.


Across the lake, wisps of mist 

roll, diminish, and disappear.



The Bather


This is not a painting, not a mirror 

or a door. The woman stepping 


into steam has called you here 

from far away. Her name is written 


on the sky. She has held you 

in her arms when snow and wind 


battered your house, when the air filled 

with stinging flies. You remember her 


from the mountain top, where she spoke 

softly of medicine and grain. 


All night you tossed in the cold, 

sleeping and waking to the music of frogs.

Steve Klepetar lives in the Shire (Berkshire County, in Massachusetts, that is). His work has appeared widely and has received several nominations for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize. He is the author of fourteen poetry collections, including Family Reunion and The Li Bo Poems.

Steve Klepetar is waiting out the winter and the pandemic in Berkshire County, Massachusetts.

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