July 2017
Laurie Byro
philbop@warwick.net
philbop@warwick.net
In 1985, while pursuing a business degree, I unhappily landed in a creative writing class and announced to the group that I thought Walt Whitman was a chain of schools throughout the United States. To my astonishment, I had found my pacing, abandoned prose, and started a poetry circle that has been meeting for 16 years. I have published four poetry collections, most recently: “The Bloomsberries and Other Curiosities” Kelsay Books and “Wonder” Little Lantern Press (out of Wales). https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_2?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Laurie+Byro I am the Poet in Residence at the West Milford Township Library and despite it all, love New Jersey, and have lived here almost 60 years.
Playing Billiards, London, 1980
We should have spent the night together. I kept filling
the jukebox with 10p pieces, your magic coins. Mick crooned
wantonness, his lips fuller than the moon, but I paid it
no mind. And it was one of those nights when we all waited
for something to happen. Balls bounced off the cue. The boys
beat me with every round, I finally gave up. My poems listened
for something real from me, not a stage or a description
of barns peeling red loss. I am telling it to you straight as I shoot
the ball into the corner pocket. You were miles away listening,
the whole world there for you right then, and me in the peripheral,
not so much. It started snowing. In the city, grey flakes fell
but not for you where you were. You were hurrying to catch
your life up with mine, the snow-white words tumbling
and dissolving before they hit the ground, waiting to be said.
© 2017 Laurie Byro
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