The Most Beautiful | Mónika Tóth

Jill Allyn Rosser presents a poem by Tony Hoagland Today’s offering is perhaps not the usual Hallmark take on Father’s Day, okay.  Tony Hoagland as usual slashes right through convention with the straight razor he keeps in his back pocket even when he’s sleeping.  This poem rides on a wave of brutal honesty that is…

After my mother’s death, her belongings devitalized Her furniture: tables and chairs in a secondhand store Her flatware; somewhat less than service for eight Her clothes: just rags in some cartons for Goodwill Floating lifeless amputated from person place time All wrapped up with some flowers, and a plain pine box A graveside ceremony, a…

my uncle cracked a smile when I asked if I could have the calendar tacked to his garage wall “why?” “because I like it” “no, he said, you don’t need that” I never asked what he thought when I asked, if he even remembered me asking, but suspected he took pause to alleviate the awkwardness…

The day that Kennedy was killed     Was the day before the Stuyvesant-Clinton football game.     There was a rally in the auditorium     And our coach who was from Texas or Oklahoma said slowly, carefully,     “There isn’t a horse that can’t be bucked.”     Meanwhile half the school…

At street number 35 In Lawson’s bay colony There’s a rich boy Enjoying sumptuous cuisines with His friends and relatives Having a barbecue, Italian pasta, spaghetti with Prawns and chilli, butter chicken, Pancakes and orange juice. Everybody is flooded with euphoria. A look of ecstasy on their faces Reminds me of the cornucopia of pleasures…

The Mickey Mouse mitten on the arid, Lonely rise pierces the eyes. Long search Frustrated, requited on this savannah. I Stand in somber requiem before the Disney Knitwear. Mickey’s plastic face on the palm Stares wide empty eyes over a welcome smile, Overwrought, an unctuous bridge to a magic Castle. The sparse remains of a…