Three Poems By Ben Nardolilli: 8/6/1945, Through a Wall, By the Road

Up the shelves she climbs,
Hooked to the ceiling
And sustained at her height
By a thin silver wire,
“Come up,” she invites me,
As her feet spread outside dirt
Against the dusty books,
I stand with gin and tonic
And shake my head,
Like a horse I stomp a foot
Onto the ground
To remind her once more,
I must always have a ground.

By the Road

There was no need to help them all,
The stranded, the abandoned,
Those running away from flames
Back in the metropolis, yes,
There were plenty more to help them,
Some better suited than we were.

But out here where the land sets
Its own horizon free from dictates
Of zoning, renewal, and planning
We must adopt a new code and urgency,
Who else can help the owner
Of the smoldering ruins we passed by?

Ben Nardolilli is a writer currently living in Arlington, Virginia. His work has appeared in Perigee Magazine, Red Fez, One Ghana One Voice, Caper Literary Journal, Quail Bell Magazine, Elimae, Squawk Back, Guerilla Pamphlets, Grey Sparrow Journal, Pear Noir, Rabbit Catastrophe Review, and Yes Poetry. His chapbook, Common Symptoms of an Enduring Chill Explained, has been published by Folded Word Press. He maintains a blog at mirrorsponge.blogspot.com and is looking to publish his first novel.

Copyright 2013 © Ben Nardolilli. This work is protected under the U.S. copyright laws. It may not be reproduced, reprinted, reused, or altered without the expressed written permission of the author.