Orchard Street
posted Nov 26, 2013
My brother waits in the cold by some men br>
who stand around and shove each other br>
out by the dark stones at night
Barely any light in this part of the city br>
with its dawn till dusk br>
sledgehammer skyline
and none by the entryway br>
that coffee dark banister br>
rubbed down to a soft br>
plantlike texture
Scrunching my toes against newspaper scraps br>
crumpled inside my slippers br>
I think of Michael Douglas br>
running from explosions in posters
cheap faded lettering from the Eighties br>
over window displays br>
peddling secondhand computers
Mom says she's grateful now br>
not to have to warp her back br>
as in the old days br>
over tubs of dirty water
though she complains how soot collects br>
below the ceiling and how the pipes br>
rattle all night long
The radio stutters br>
beside the kerosene lamp br>
Pharaoh's face mom likes to joke
lingering in the flame br>
above the beaten olive oil
Yankees up by a run br>
Mantle Maris Posada Rodriguez br>
On the shelves above the sandalwood cabinet br>
Ivory Soap Ovenserve
yellow boxes flickering br>
as the family looks back br>
on the wandering life
frozen mornings and treeless evenings br>
What was it between us
words we were meant br>
one day to read and understand
Prayers and then it's time for Dad's nap br>
feather filled mattress at four o' clock br>
he goes on and on
about the pleasant texture br>
and plush cushioning
The ceiling lowers as he lies down br>
The walls shade over br>
The rooms go quiet
It's almost 1935 br>
and that big new Egghead's Software br>
is soon to arrive a few doors down
so my brother can carouse the aisles br>
for RPGs and Shoot 'Em Ups br>
maybe the latest br>
Leisure Suit Larry br>
to play when no one's home
After the outhouse he likes br>
to sprint from lawn to lawn
past where men in tents stay up all night br>
playing five card stud by lantern light br>
waiting for some signal to arrive
©
's poems have appeared recently or are forthcoming in publications such as 32 Poems, New Orleans Review, Parnassus, Ploughshares, The Threepenny Review, and Witness. He grew up in Los Angeles and works in book production in New York City.
We’ve published seven more poems by Homolka: “sometimes song,” “Hooky,” “Vertigo,” “Rubato,” “resignation,” “golden gate park,” and “Fairground II.”