Sunday, May 10, 2015

Scott Laudati - Two Poems


i never
questioned that
my father was a
real man; he
could do
things. things
weaker fathers couldn’t
(give a funeral
speech without
tearing, build a shed
and fill it
with tools
he knew how
to use).
they say
make a man.

my father
had no doubt
i was not a man,
had none of the
and didn’t show
much hope
of figuring it out.

he liked to
say, “you think
you just flush
a toilet
and it goes
what’s going to
happen when it doesn’t
go away
and it comes back
and you and all your
friends are drowning
in poop?
you’re all
die because
you don’t even know
how to use
a toilet
you’ll see.”

his brother
was the same.
he wrestled
in high school
and he
always said it
taught him
things but as
far as I could
tell he did
everything wrong.

they both had
a favorite
to give
on the couch.
football commercials.

i found
it hard to concentrate
on words
men spoke
while watching other
throw balls
at each other
and try
their hardest
to lay on
the most
submissive one.

this was
to be the triumph
of all men,
and every sunday
my dad
would yell
and cry,
never giving any thought
to after
the game, when
forty of them took one big
shower together.

Something Like Love

i miss you
blue eyes
lying in your
while you walked
across campus
looking at
jersey mountains
rolling away from your path
like the sleeping stomachs
of giant buddhas
and me staying
making the bed
so we could unmake it
using your roommates
teapot to bring
your small bones back to
and your soft skin
under my heat
it could be love you said

you hate me now
blue eyes
you used the
bruises of your old
lovers to build back
something more
and i let my old
loves leave me
with less
i could see
no dark spots
in you
but my pain
needed company
and when once
you thought
love could conquer
by our epitaph
your eyes
held the ruin of
an idea
it could’ve been love you said

who are we now
blue eyes?
i’ve erased
the words and the doubt
i only remember
how your cat ran away
every time i opened the door
and even though
your dad was
a cop i tried
to like him anyway
we had no vices
we could go
to the zoo sober
and smile at turtles
and pet giraffes
that night we drove all night
i reminded you of
those turtles
who seemed to smile back
and we rolled
and kissed
and ignored our sins
and once again
we talked about
i always try and
go back to
that night i let you
get on the plane
and you left me
and new jersey behind
it can still be love
i said

i always try and go back to that night
in my mind
in my songs
it was something like love
we were something like love

Scott Laudati lives in NYC with his boxer, Satine. He is the author of "Hawaiian Shirts In The Electric Chair". Visit him @

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