Rita Stein
four poems
Dogsense
I'm just so tired of all the advice that people have been
Throwing round these days and days
People speak and a dog responds and that dog is the
One who might be making sense
The computer puts capitals in and makes my language
More formal than is my desire; it makes me more aware
That a dog can make more sense and be more simpatico
Can I feebly end this lament with a song that barks as well?
The Bridge
The first thing to notice is the brick
that is not the color we normally
assign to a brick.
The next thing to notice is the fountain
in which a tree has been planted.
The brick is next to the fountain
but far from the tree.
I am near the bridge, listening
too hard and looking too long.
I am in outline, not (even).
There really doesn’t have to be
irony and distance when we are looking
and bricks really can be the color
of bricks, (especially).
Everyone takes up with someone.
Think de Kooning and politicians.
Make your escape bigger (than)
an irrevocable change from table into orange.
Cyclone
The temperate weather
mid November
fools rush forward in glee
I bothered everyone
sober, unbelievably so
Soon a savage mania
turns into an absorbing
shopping spree for moisturizer-
all kinds, oil free, unscented, SPF
This, and sunglasses, tight jeans,
the Williamsburg Bridge
my romance brilliantly flourishing
M Train
My eyes observing
from the train
First a light fog
then a small lifting
for the sun
The gentleman who
catches my eye
sometimes
has big headphones
on today
I like that
weird gear
He looks like
a Martian
with a
doughnut head
The train
is always
held
at Myrtle
It makes
me sad
to know
that someday I
won’t be
on this
train
This is the
best
commute
I
ever had
--------
Rita Stein originally hails from Baltimore, Md. She currently lives in New York and is a middle school librarian in Bushwick. She has had some poems published in Stained Sheets, Blue Collar Review, Octopus Dreams and September Eleven: Maryland Voices-Reaction, Reflection, Resilience. Rita remains an active MFA resister in these troubled times.
