Peter A. Weinberg – Poetry

“Move on”

You say it with a smirk
   but can’t say it straight
because it hurts

“Move on”

The little one
   with his bubbly enthusiasms,
where’s he?

“Move on”

With an edge of anger
   or the sharpness of hate

“Move on”

When the last spark leaves him
   and the buildings come down

We’re just a blip here
   we hardly mean

Then the sister had a baby
   and the brother-in-law remarried
   and the uncle was promoted…

“Move on”

As a girl, her dad took her fishing
   She’s fishing with him still

There’s dad’s boat as it leaves
   trailed by its raw, sure, buoyant,
bubbly stream

-March 24, 2008-