Riffraff by Gene Twaronite

Riffraff

A casual, under-the-breath
comment, though she might as well
have shouted it in my face.

Too bad we have to walk
through all these riffraff,
she said, entering the library
as she pointed to the people
heading for the entrance
with their luggage and bedrolls.

I looked at her and quietly
repeated the word as a question
that hung uselessly in the air.
The meeting was about to start
and there were things to do,
but I could still hear the word
with its terrible effing riffs,
heavily breathing
like a diminished thing
crouching at our door.

*

Gene Twaronite is a Tucson poet and the author of five poetry collections. His first poetry book, Trash Picker on Mars, was the winner of the 2017 New Mexico-Arizona Book Award. His latest poetry collection is Death at the Mall (Kelsay Books). A former Writer-in-Residence for Pima County Public Library, he leads a poetry workshop for University of Arizona OLLI. Follow more of Gene’s writing at: genetwaronitepoet.com & genetwaronite.bsky.social

Ode to a Fake Plant by Gene Twaronite

Ode to a Fake Plant

Your perfect leaves
shine back at me
as if freshly washed
by a spring rain
and make me
want to believe
in you
to touch your skin
and feel the pulse
of your artful
unblemished life
on display
in a tidy white pot
you will never outgrow
I do believe
you would thrive
in my sunless bathroom—
a perpetual plant
who never needs
watering or fussing
and would not care
if I live or die

*

Gene Twaronite is a Tucson poet and the author of five poetry collections. His first poetry book, Trash Picker on Mars, was the winner of the 2017 New Mexico-Arizona Book Award. His latest poetry collection is Death at the Mall (Kelsay Books). A former Writer-in-Residence for Pima County Public Library, he leads a poetry workshop for University of Arizona OLLI. Follow more of Gene’s writing at: genetwaronitepoet.com & genetwaronite.bsky.social

Two Poems by Gene Twaronite

The Burping Seal

A lone Tupperware with sky blue lid,
it lives on in my kitchen, a reminder
of all it once held—loving leftovers
of Mom’s greasy kugel or kielbasa,
mincemeat cookies, coleslaw or apple pie.

Its skin is worn soft from fifty years
of washing and handling. Back and forth
it went from her place to mine. I see
her sturdy hands placing morsels into its mouth
like a mother bird feeding its young.

The only piece of hers I still own, it is
a talisman of other days, though its lid
has long lost its patented burping seal.
But like a person, a product is
much more than a slogan.

*

Spiritual

A magic word
my brother
wanted to hear,
for now he says
I’m no longer
going to hell,
as if to
speak of
intangible things
made my
sinful body
suddenly
transfigure into
pure spirit,
speaking in
ineffable
tongues.

*

Gene Twaronite is a Tucson poet and the author of four poetry collections. His first poetry book Trash Picker on Mars, published by Kelsay Books, was the winner of the 2017 New Mexico-Arizona Book Award for Arizona poetry. His latest poetry collection is Shopping Cart Dreams. Gene leads a poetry workshop for the University of Arizona OLLI program. Follow more of Gene’s writing at his website: genetwaronitepoet.com.