Two Poems by Rob MacDonald

By  | March 1, 2015 | 1 Comment | Filed under: Poetry

rob macdonald

 

 

We Knew Nothing

 

We knew something
was wrong with him.

The tetras, fresh
from the pet store,

flop and wheeze
in his little green net.

Eager to flush them,
he asks permission,

his eyes: the vacuum
of space in which

twin galaxies
unrelentingly churn.

 

 

 

 

First Memory

 

The screaming filaments
in the delivery room,

the slip and grab
of corn starch

and rubber glove,
that first touch,

and in the distance,
the lungs of the city

as Fisk wills the ball
across the night sky.

The way terror turns
to temporary joy,

the kind that never dies—
this being, this alive.

 

 

 

Rob MacDonald lives in Boston and is the editor of Sixth Finch. His poems can be found in Gulf CoastBOAAT,JellyfishSink Reviewinter|ruptureDIAGRAM and other journals.  He has books forthcoming from Rye House Press and Racing Form Press.

 

 

 

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