Four Poems by Wayne F. Burke

 

Honey,

I am leaving for Mars

Thursday.

Will take 8 months to

arrive: will call you on

arrival. The call

will take 2-3 weeks

to reach you.

Please pick up.

Will return near the first

of the following year.

See you then?

 

 

Death

 

is like being lost in the 

woods

walking around trying

to get back to some place

recognizable, while

fighting the anxiety of

separation, until

finally

accepting your new indeterminate

condition, between

life, or living, and

death, or dying--

and then feeling anxiety-free

as you begin to enjoy

being dead--

like a new career forced upon you;

one you fought against, but, once

started

found you like it; are

glad you made the change.

 

 

A fat man in a car

parked at the edge of the

park: He stares at me,

to glean the low-down,

the dope,

the skinny...

He is C.I.A., MOSSAD, KGB.

He reports to mission control

by speaking into the

glove compartment.

 

 

Vacay

 

she went on vacation

and when she returned

discovered her house gone

and no one could tell her

where--

a big truck, the authorities said

came and took it.

She moved into an apartment

and never did come to know

where her house went, but

one thing she knew for sure:

she would never go on vacation

again.

Wayne F. Burke's poetry has been widely published in print and online (including in LOTHLORIEN POETRY JOURNAL). He is author of 8 published poetry collections and one short story collection. His most recently published book is a nonfiction work titled HENRY MILLER, Spirit & Flesh, 2022, Cyberwit.net. He lives in Vermont.