Peter Douglas
V3:E11 November, 2001


      Dedicated to the memory of the poet’s cousin,  
      Suzanne Kondratenko
      (March 3, 1974—September 11, 2001, World Trade Center)

Manhattan, like a fat gold paperweight,
you hold down the Atlantic seaboard, curling
with salt and ocean breath.  I have come late
back home, to fragments, flustered papers hurling
themselves about in corners -- I have left
the window propped.  And Crumbles, my calico --
doubtful, obese, and old -- has halted the theft
and crabbed one battered item.  Does she know,
as worn and bruised as it is, sweated on
beneath her paw, this scrap of passion still
means most to me?  Because it’s here, not gone
to shadowed puddles off the windowsill,
or moon coins, or out West.  There’s some must stay
behind, until there’s something new we cannot not say.

Peter Douglas
Date of Birth: December 12, 1978
Location: New York, New York
Occupation: Actor, Student at Juilliard
Publications: G.W. Review, The Hollins Critic, Kimera, Paperplates, Rattapallax, Red Booth Review, The Rose & Thorn, Spank Thru, Undressed, Writers' Journal, Stirring V3:E3, V3:E5, V3:E6, etc.

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