Peter A. Weinberg – Poetry

In this idyllic scene
   sits the family in the sitting room
peeling tangerines

A man sings
   in his cell alone
a chunk of the world hears him
   its emptiness, limitless, sweet

If he was the lieutenant leading me
   I’d shoot him in the back
One more demon for me to feed

The violence between us, dear lady,
   was never physical—
it was sexual and wordy

These ghosts are no match for me

Bad blood on the mountain
   moonlit, dangerous

Because we think and smell alike
   we’re brothers

Balloon celebrations...
   An Xmas store open all year
Everyday the holiday, everyday

We don’t do this for the memories

The pleasure we gave each other
   sweaty, intense
      didn’t suffice
The pain exchanged was too irregular
   too unmeasured

Phantoms watched us play

If I were a gangster, you’d be dead

-March 2, 2010-