Monday 11 November 2019

2 Poems by Brooks Robards


Where did you start—
in the kitchen? No silver
but you ate some hummus.
Did you see me working
on my computer, watch
me as I typed? How else
did you know to go downstairs?

You were no sloppy invader.
Only clue was the garage door
left open. Were you still in there
when we came home? Too bad
for you the car battery was dead.

You left my keys on the car floor
a pair of earrings not mine–
where did they come from?
My wallet open, money gone
plus two credit cards. Not the rest.
Tell me. Are you curious about me?


We went to court
every time you did
until it was over.
We talked to your dad
your cousin’s widow.
Continued, continued
it took a year after
you were sentenced
for me to get my jewelry
back. No fingerprints
so no theft charge
just receiving stolen goods.

Two and a half years
with probation. Letters
informed us of your progress
a no contact order
work release, parole
then good behavior.
How will you pay us back?
Tell me, are you going
to haunt me forever? 


Brooks Robards has published 5 volumes of poetry, the most recent of which are “Fishing the Desert” (2015), with photographer Siegfried Halus, and “On Island” (2014), with painter Hermine Hull. Her work in anthologies and periodicals includes: Layman’s Way, Canary, DASH, Wednesday’s Poets, Island Quintet, Avocet, Aurorean, Cleavel and House Poets, Plainsongs, Fulcrum, Equinox and Silkworm. She lives in Northampton, MA, and summers on Martha’s Vineyard.

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