William Doreski

We’ve sold our possessions to join
a one-room commune in Boston.
The lone refrigerator grunts
and fails, spoiling acres of food.
The sink coughs up hairballs as big
as soccer balls. The toilet howls

from a depth greater than plumbing
has ever plumbed before. Strangers
hog the bed for greasy sex.
We can’t afford to house ourselves
anymore, so have to stay here
for the rest of our lives. The floor,

although swabbed with pizza sauce,
looks inviting enough, so we sprawl
and attempt to nap long enough
to gain strength to search for jobs.
Outside, the city raves with storm.
Lightning blisters the reddish glow.

I can operate a backhoe,
bulldozer, or crane. You can tend
the sick, but lack a license.
We’ll survive. When the storm fades
we’ll walk the night streets awhile,
duck into Dunkin’ Donuts, share

a coffee, return when our comrades
have fallen asleep. Tomorrow
we’ll drift from office to office
until our feet feel like loaves of rye.
Then in the dusk we’ll memorize
the names of our many housemates

and learn how they earn their livings
and why we’ve come together
in this single room where one bulb
dangles from the ceiling, bright
enough to cast great shadows
and fracture our collective gloom.

©2012 This work is the property of the author.


Posted on July 7, 2012, in POETRY, William Doreski and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.

  1. MM welcomes William, who’s sent in a few poems, but I’ve yet to read his second batch of submissions. If this poem is anything to go on, you can count on seeing more of his work.

  2. unfetteredbs

    I love the way the story unfolds.. such vivid images in the words

  3. Communal life lacks the amenities of an interchange of the poet and the civilized life.” Outside
    the city raves the storm” but inside there is the stark reality and real politic of the social history,
    psychological suffering and a gritty street wise self portrait of city life and light in a less than
    Chaplinesque chapter in a poet’s awareness of his self.The human predicament brings us a
    psychological realism of wanting to fit in among other alienated souls like floaters in a sham
    universe that of a harassing time to ourselves and that my maxim holds true to ” Life is an embarrassment.”

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