Stirring : A Literary Collection

Peter Douglas


      Dedicated to the memory of the poetís cousin,  
      Suzanne Kondratenko
      (March 3, 1974 - September 11, 2001, World Trade Center)

Anticipating you, seeing you again, a difficult joy.
I am again peeking through the cracked door
at you --
cuddling, giggling against the quiet lapping of the lake,
sprawled, feet against cold feet, beside my sister --
standing where Iíve stopped and canít scratch my ankle --
the floor might creak and wake our families, or grandma and grandpa,
who needs his long sleep,
like splitting water behind his chestnut speedboat,
Old Glory flapping left and right, bow and stern,
tears breaking across his cheeks in the wind.

78 floors is about 936 feet, isnít it? "Not counting the mezzanine?"
I wonder if you ever saw that movie?
Paul Newmanís great, strutting around, mumbling "Sure, Sure" all the time.
I watch movies all night now,
late into the morning, Ďtil I pass out.

But I still have nightmares.
My sisterís voice breaks air,
sends the huddling frogs sprawling into the lake --
your split bones bristle in the moonlight,
choked up in flannel and blood splat through
your jammies -- bone and flannel and little girl --
still little girl.

Peter Douglas
Date of Birth: 12/12/78
Location: Washington, DC
Publications: The G.W. Review, The Hollins Critic, The Mindís Eye, Paperplates, Rattapallax, Red Booth Review, Spank Thru, SUndressed & Writerís Journal., Stirring V3:E3, V3:E5, V3:E6, V3:E11

Stirring : A Literary Collection

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