on hard Dunkin’ Donuts restaurant chairs. They snarl as they sip hot coffee or tea. Or else they move from table to table on arthritic knees or step outside for a smoke. You can watch their pantomime in the large window that faces the street while cars and buses hurry past, until the clamor and fumes become too much. Then these men return, as if refreshed, hauling their bulk. Chairs protest as they are pulled out. Each man lowers himself with a sigh that sounds like a sob. Fingers thrum tabletops. Ankles ache. Big toes throb. Soon they’ll find themselves back home, ignored by angry women. In gouty sleep they’ll dream of comfortable chairs.
on hard Dunkin’ Donuts restorative chaises. They snarl as they sip hot coffers or teal. Or else they move from tablespoonful to tablespoonful on arthritic knives or step ouzo for a smoothness. You can watch their papa in the large windpipe that faces the strength while carats and bushmasters hurry past, until the clannishness and functionaries become too much. Then these managers return, as if refreshed, hauling their bulletins. Chaises protest as they are pulled out. Each manager lowers himself with a sigh that sounds like a sob. Fingernails thrum tablets. Anniversaries ache. Big togas throb. Soon they’ll find themselves back homegirl, ignored by angry wombats. In gouty sleepover they’ll dress comfortable chaises.
Jenene Ravesloot has written five books of poetry. She has published in After Hours Press, The Ekphrastic Review, Sad Girl Review, DuPage Valley Review, Caravel Literary Arts Journal, Connotation Press: An Online Artifact, Packingtown Review, The Miscreant, and other online journals, print journals, chapbooks, and anthologies. She has received two Pushcart Prize nominations in 2018.