Art
The Doctor, Part 97
Sean Flaherty
The way my fingers fit
beginning at the sternum,
moving along
the rib bones,
each time I see
the Doctor,
each time I leave her office
it seems
easier
to say
“I am dying.”
Photograph by Jeff Spirer
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The Stabbing Game
Sean Flaherty
They switched the time of day
but every day for one year,
Monday through Friday
we had seventh grade science
with Mr. Stern,
after school,
Neil Brown and I
would tear over to Friendly’s or
Burger King
in his mom’s Camar...
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Subway Pome #57: Most Girls Wear Too Much Makeup
Sean Flaherty
“Somewhere in her smile she knows
That I don’t need no other lover” – from Something by George Harrison
Around eight
Saturday morning
the chilly wet October fog
makes it feel earlier than it is,
the bus depot
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Library of Sean
Sean Flaherty
"We have to distrust each other. It's our only defense against betrayal." - Tennessee Williams
I don’t loan books:
as a rule it removes the awkward event
of returning the book.
You begged to borrow it,
charmed me
with yo...
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Vacation
Sean Flaherty
Vacation
It was a hot, long, necessary three days:
my wife was eight months pregnant
and the pressure was on at work
but I had to leave that behind –
more than a year had gone by
and I hadn’t visited my mother ...
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Subway Pome #56: Marcy
Sean Flaherty
On Marcy Avenue,
beneath
the above-ground
subway platform
for
the Jay, eM, Zee
a
teenage girl
bounces her
very large
breasts
in
barely a bra
beneath
an
orange T-shirt
a size
too small,
at Havemeyer,
she stops
and bounces on...
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145 South 4th Street
Sean Flaherty
In the span
of three months:
my friend's wife died
in a car accident,
his infant son
was diagnosed with
brain cancer
and the company where he worked for twenty years went
belly up.
Considering the
fragility implied by this,...
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Poem
Ice T Spit on My Foot & other poems
Sean Flaherty
Ice-T Spit on my Foot
I have been going
to night school
after work
so I can learn
some new things,
to broaden myself
at forty-three,
I met this roofer
at school
who told me that
all the roofers and electrician...
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Writing
It’s Not You. It’s Me.
Sean Flaherty
I put my daughter to bed,
kiss my wife
and take an easy walk
to get some groceries and a bag of beer,
at Driggs and North 8th
the ground gets hot
and the air smells like cinnamon:
across from the liquor store
a b...
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