Three Poems by J.K. Durick

Absence

I have gone to great lengths to fill the room,
talked and flirted, moved furniture and touched
things up, but the hole in my day hasn’t gone away.
It is there, wide and tall, deep, dark, hollow, and all
I did, or can do, only makes it all seem more true.



Trial Separation

“Separation” sounds scientific, perhaps surgical
like conjoined twins leaving an O.R. on separate

gurneys; one thing ends, then two continue on

or parts of a space launch coming apart, one going

on, while the other, as expected, drops easily away.

“Trial” seems too tentative, like trial and error or

better, a test drive around a block or two to try

things out, like taking off the training wheels and

watching the children ride away from us, watch

them grow away from us, trying out their new

found separateness, or like a trial-size that comes

in the mail, but then grows larger, even family size

or like something with a thirty day guarantee and

if we aren’t satisfied we can send it back for a full

refund, minus postage and all this damn handling.

 

 

 

Fresh out

 

Cupboard bare, glass emptied all the way,

Tank bone dry, empty sleeve, empty socket,

A vacant lot, a blank stare, hollow, devoid,

Dismal, pointless, futile, aimless, drained,

Uninhabited, barren, worthless, exhausted,

 

And that’s just this morning.

 

 

 

 

J. K. Durick is presently a writing teacher at the Community College of Vermont and an online writing tutor. His recent poems have appeared in Literary Juice, Napalm and Novocain, Third Wednesday, and Common Ground Review.