photo by Chanel Dubofsky
Joshua Michael Stewart lives in Ware, Massachusetts in Hampshire County, and is a Straw Dog Writers Guild Member. His poems have been published in the Massachusetts Review,
Salamander, Brilliant Corners, and many others. His first full-length collection of poems, Break Every String, was published by Hedgerow Books in 2016. www.joshuamichaelstewart.com
I’ve been reading Kaufman, again. Charlie Parker was a great electrician
who went around wiring people.
Harrison Ford has been spotted eating Thai in South Hadley.
Someone has the pictures to prove it.
Another night spent on the bathroom floor holding a warm washcloth
to my cat’s left brow.
His wound is bulging with pus, and he’s scratched it open.
Now he has to wear a cone and walks around like there’s a battleship
anchor tied to his neck.
Your libraries are closed. The book festival has been canceled.
Like everywhere else, people are stocking up on toilet paper.
Doug Anderson said it best when he said, There is something
culturally emblematic about toilet paper panic.
The last time I climbed the Seven Sisters I attracted Lyme disease.
It’s spring and those mothering hills are calling. I need to love
them again, even if they won’t love me back.
The Saw Mill River must be engorged with winter runoff.
I haven’t been near its rushing waters in months.
I’ve kept myself from you, away from your hum.
My father’s sick and there’s work to do. You have no idea
how much I want to bury myself
under your skin.
My dear, the Gambler is dead. Ruby’s man has lost another war.
Did the President really say the disabled and elderly
should die for the good of Wall Street?
Crows bicker in the bare birch in the yard.
The cat and I have murder on our minds.