a poetry e-zine

 

 

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

Poems By Ron Yazinski

THE GALLERY OF THE WICKED STEP-MOTHER

(For K.S.)

 

Even as a child, she avoided mirrors.

Something about the eyes was never quite right.

So when she finally had a place of her own,

She filled it with inexpensive prints,

 

Like the one in the foyer, the “Mona Lisa,”

In which she admires her own enigmatic beauty,

Out of place in this rude country,

Smiling at the village before her,

 

The fire of its thatched hovels illuminating her face;

Or, in the family room, Raphael’s “Madonna and Child,”

In which her little naked Messiah leans against her knee,

And, with her approval, teases cousin John with a blessing;

 

Or, in the bedroom, where Titian’s “ Venus of Urbino”

Lounges on her twilit bed,

Confident in her powers,

Just out of reach of the unfortunates

 

Who lust to kiss her smooth, throbbing breast,

Unaware, that in place of a heart, there writhes a snake;

Or that her private parts, playfully concealed by her fleshy hand,

Are pasted shut by spider webs.

 

 

 

DOOLITTLE

 

In her pale delicacy,

She was like Audrey Hepburn,

The eternal waif, with eyes as dark

As the devil’s shadow.

 

The last time we saw each other, it was over coffee,

Through the PA

Oscar Peterson noodled “Wouldn’t It Be Loverly?”

And it was time for clichés.

 

We were both returning to our contracted lives,

But that moment would stay in our hearts like a scene

From a musical in which common tradesmen put down their tools

And break into a song and dance in London streets.

 

Two years later, when I was somebody else,

I finally received a letter from her,

Saying she was sorry that she took so long to write,

But soon after she left me,

 

She was in a terrible car accident that had severely scarred her face,

That I would hardly recognize her.

But I must have known that,

Which was why I hadn’t written.

 

She was right that I was shallow, but for another reason—

Lethargy, the preservative of unhappy marriages.

The real life me is much too lazy to sing and dance;

Hell, much too lazy to answer a letter;

 

And the few times since when I’ve thought of her,

I’ve imagined Audrey Hepburn

As Eliza Doolittle in MY FAIR LADY,

Mouthing the words to “I Feel Pretty.”

 

Ron Yazinski is a retired English teacher who, with his wife Jeanne, divides time between Northeastern Pennsylvania and Winter Garden, Florida.  His poems have appeared in The Journal of the Mulberry Poets and Writers Association, Poets Online, Strong Verse, The Bijou Review, Recursive Angel, The Edison Literary Review, Lunarosity, Penwood, Jones Av., Centrifugal Eye, amphibi.us, Nefarious Ballerina, The Talon, Amarillo Bay, The Write Room, Pulsar, Sunken Lines, Wilderness House, Blast Furnace, The Houston Literary Review, Menagerie, H.O.D., Forge, Miller’s Pond, Muscle and Blood, Indigo Rising, Sixers Review and Crash. He is also the author of the chapbook HOUSES: AN AMERICAN ZODIAC, which was published by The Poetry Library and a book of poems SOUTH OF SCRANTON.

Copyright 2011  Chantarelle's Notebook