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2 Poems: Doug Tanoury

    Pink Font

    And I tell her
    Write to me in feminine fonts
    That flower and bloom and
    Twist in flowing script
    And curve in colored pale pastels
    That calls to mind
    A fullness of Lips and the hint of hues
    That form crescents of flushness
    Around her cheeks

    And I tell her
    Talk to me only with a tint of pink words
    Whispered on the ether of each exhale
    And floating weightless
    On the warm vapor of each breath
    For I am helpless and entranced
    Possessed and driven by each letter
    And word and phrase and line

    And I tell her
    Take these hands and move them
    To capture each word that falls
    From her mouth and is the
    The slow ripened fruit
    Of many idle hours
    And graces my writing table
    In lushness like a still life
    With peaches and oranges




    Incantation

    She looks at me and says that I am the ghost of my father
    Sitting on her sofa or sleeping on her love seat
    And I agree an tell her that his death is simply a ruse
    To avoid work and shirk obligations
    I believe he still lives
    Hiding in fugitive fashion
    Like some old Nazi who escaped justice
    Somewhere in South America

    At the dinner table she calls me by his name
    The incarnation of his waywardness
    Whenever displeasure is expressed or faults counted
    Whenever work goes undone and money is squandered
    When promises are broken and bills unpaid
    My father lives again

    It is all his fault his spirit his failures his disappoints
    That haunts this home and those who dwell here
    For he has died and left the TV on
    Some annoying remnant of him
    As if the aftershock of his life here remains
    And it is only the words repeated three times as you spin
    Around and round
    Fast and faster with arms extended

    That can exorcise this house
    And cleanse it of all his vices
    The smell of cigarettes mixed with the muskiness
    Of yesterdays clothes and somehow
    Silence the sound of his snores
    As he naps in the sunlight on summer afternoons
    In childish invocation you must say as you twirl
    With centrifugal speed in the center of the living room
    And repeat after me the tragic incantation
    That will force out his ghost

    I love your snores
    I love your farts
    I love your gone

Doug Tanoury is exclusively a poet of the internet with the vast majority of his work being published online and never leaving electronic form. His verse can be read at electronic magazines and journals across the world.
Doug sites his 7th grade poetry anthology used in Sister Debra's English class as exerting the greatest influence on his work. He still keeps a copy of Reflections On A Gift Of Watermelon Pickle And Other Modern Verse (Stephen Dunning, Edward Lueders and Hugh Smith, (c)1966 by Scott Foresman & Company) at his writing desk.




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