The Wayward Orchard / Paul Sohar

About the Author

Sunfish Pond
Requiem for a Refugee Camp
Summer Past
The Geese Were Gone
The Wayward Orchard
Mount Katahdin
A Tour Without Virgil
The Ravished
My Dream House
The God of Spring
The (Last) Party 
The Secret
The Other
This Wall
Little Night Music
Being and Its Skin
Grandma’s Silence
The Ruler of the Mirror
The Silent Dreamer
Keep It Simple
Canyon Dreams



The (Last) Party

Once more the party will end
and the empty bottles will hurl
themselves against the bottom of
the recycling bin,
instead of the bare bricks of the fireplace,

and we will say good-by
as if the darkness of the night
had burst forth from
our very own overburdened bowels.

The door will slam shut like the back cover of
an encyclopedia,
the car will run over another
dead-end road,
and the dawn will slice off another dream,
we hope, before the head starts banging.

What’s the matter? Didn’t you enjoy the party?
No, I’m not too drunk to drive.

And the night will trample all
over us like a tipsy dragon
looking for a place to pee.

Why did we stay so long?

No, I didn't yawn, it was only a burp
from the deeper folds of the belly,
probably mine,
small change from the rifled rasps of the throat.

Here it is, take it. That’s all I’ve got,
at this time of the night.
I’ve got nothing left except
a yearning to hurl myself
into a recycling bin. And not
with a bang but a warm thud
like a rinsed-out detergent container.

  © Paul Sohar, 2011


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