Issue #10

Sound of Departure


Poem typed out on a page with a burnt corner

Poem text

Look into the insect blind device

before it lacerates along web,

removing skin with book-like arrogance.

You do not incubate this lifeless thing

when everyone can hold a rifle.


The handshake gives as much as it takes.

E.H. swims the fifty year creases of a child born

and finds church for a second time.

It is discovered fish-hook grenades

will hang in net windows.

Attendance for christening

makes experience incomplete.

War is growing fingernails,

it is touched in the sound of departure.

The conception of a store is begun

by barren primitive cry of a nephew.

Inanimate bright blood on boot.

At a wedding Eddy searches

for the preserved eyes of his godson.


This suited man resists merging with baptism font.

Notes of animal cold thaw until you are

the landscape's significance.

E.H. says he remembers the christening.

Beverkusen, '92

Leverkusen, '92

Lewis Haubus

© 2014