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Guardian Angels? & Other Poems

guardian angels?

a pistol is held to your forehead
in a bosky alley of the night

you search for the face behind the hand
as you wait for the click of the trigger

instead you see
the hand holding the gun pull back

you take a deep breath
and when your lungs
fill up with the air of hope
a blow hits your temple

a stick-up
the thought enters you
together with the pain

two men stand above you
kick your face
your groin
without rushing

one of them leans above you

“you little piece of crap
be happy
you still

perspiring at you

I-5, North of LA, photograph by Bernard Meisler


this is the room

its scabrous floor
suggests it’s more than just one

sneaking cold
surrounds them


warm replaces the cold
tepid hailstorm swallows the light
washes the air clean

silence dies away
makes our voices
with routine tasks

tile shards’ dust falls from the roof
blinding a staghorn sumac


broken mirror shards cast shadows
to the boot sole dirt covered
ant cleaved floor

mosquito and fly remains stuck
on the wall
faces hidden on the cabinet door
at the abandoned room

through the window gap
the wind fluent in every language
blows secondhand air
at the musty walls

whispers something
to the body-wrinkled bed
waits for no answers
and lashes itself
to the cracks on the door

frozen to polaroid

you plastered my eyes

I couldn’t see
how you live
in different places
at the same time

I couldn’t see
you watching
the zigzagging flashes
of the slices of light
becoming polaroid

among them
your only souvenir
the unknown gate of a garden
the only entrance
you could never exit

lying in the bottom
of the box
beneath your pictures

–Gabor G. Gyukics


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