poems by Rena J. Mosteirin

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Monday, October 20, 2008

Pamela’s Pancakes

1
Pamela made pancakes for the man who had raped her.
As the snow falling on the other side of the window pulled
the coldness from the air. It held hard at the chill
and it seemed warmer then it had been in days.

He was in the bathroom when she reached under the kitchen sink
didn’t even really have to think about it.
Pamela plop-ploped the rat poison into his half-full mug
and covered it over with the rest of the coffee.

The snow falling on the other side of the window
pulled the coldness from the air after holding so hard to that chill.
The air seemed warmer then it had been in days
when she opened the window a little to let the stale smells out.

2
Pam was friends with a girl who had been raped but didn’t remember.
Pam had an extra ticket so they sat side by side
and watched yet another woman ravished. Delightful, the critics said, beautiful.

Far worse not to know where the strange sickness comes from,
to know why you can’t stop running until you are home.
They went out for coffee after the show.

The last night I was in New York, the girl said,
I dreamed some metallic bloody smell in the air,
and I realized I was chewing glass
a whole mouthful and I couldn’t breathe enough to scream.

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