Walter Durk

 
Broken People

I saw my father in an old photograph–
a boy sits on a stump in knickers
with a stern man by his side,
while his mother, dressed
in black and white, scatters
chicken feed.

My father drove us to the island
where he is now buried,
and parked in front of an institution
that looked like a prison where
a woman in white brought
Ann to us.

We sat together in a hallway
decades from her flashing knives.
Her placid face spoke
of somewhere, nowhere
as father calmly talked
she looked beyond–

We never met.

…….
…….

I want to be married

I want it  
not some cheap substitute
pretending to satisfy me.
I want that embossed license,
the one that’s signed,
its legal lingo ready to frame.
And I want it now.
I’ll hang in the worlds most conspicuous place
where people can bitch and gossip.

I want Armageddon.
I’ll appear on Christian talk shows
every Sunday morning; park that license
in front of cameras while I discuss marriage,
the destruction of families, the end of days.
Even the future of Africa,
after Civil Rights.
I’ll have my partner sit beside me on the couch
where we’ll snuggle and kiss.
Who in hell would have guessed
the world was coming to this.

© Walter Durk

Walter Durk was born in New York City and has since lived in Asia and a few areas of the United States. He is a graduate of the University of Missouri and lives in the Chicago area. Some of his works have been published in Loch Raven Review, Poetic Diversity, and Real Eight View.

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