John Bargowski
John Bargowski lives in New Jersey and likes to walk in the countryside after sunset, trying to identify planets and constellations. He has written two books of poetry, American Chestnut and Driving West on the Pulaski Skyway.
— From April 2023The Skull
When he held it out, I ran / my fingers over the shredded / cartilage of the nasal cavity / and the sutures that fused together / the cranium, the tip of my finger / gone for a second when I poked it / inside a shadowy orbit
April 2023Wingtips
On my way home from school / with a gang of friends / I would see him outside / one of the bars or diners / near the Journal Square station: / my uncle, rasping the price / of a shine to the passing crowd
June 2022Test
This time my mother got it all right. / The year, the month, and the day. / The president’s name. Where she’s staying. / So she thinks she’s going home. / When I stop by the rehab center, she tells me / to make sure the heat’s turned up, / the cable switched on again, fresh / milk in the fridge.
January 2022The Fox Skull
My middle girl found it long after the crows / had picked away the eyes, the gums, / the supple stretch of tongue
August 2013Gethsemane
When the disciple who loved Him most / unsheathed his sword / and sliced off the right ear / of the high priest’s servant, / we all cheered and stomped the parquet floor / in that February classroom
August 2012Snowstorm
Heavy, wet snow all morning, then by noon / the clouds wrung dry, whipped away, / the sky so brilliant after the viewing / and graveside service for our youngest
January 2012Weighing The Dog
It’s been months / since mud’s been stuck / to his paws, longer / since I’ve had to comb / any burs or ticks / from his thinning coat.
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