June 2018
I don’t think coherently about anything until I have picked up a Lamy fountain pen and let the ink glide across an unlined page in my Rhodia notepad. My family, poetry, my long-running workshop, and my standard poodle are the passions of my life. My latest book, Gravity: New and Selected Poems is now a reality; I plan to travel with it this year, and hope to meet many V-V poets along the way. More at: www.donnahilbert.com
This Gun is Real
I have seen my face in the black metal
felt the heat
breathed gray dust hanging
in the air.
This kid knows
what makes Saturday night special.
I open the flue
hide the gun in the chimney.
I am talking about terror.
Now I look for the knife.
this knife is real.
I have seen it at work
slicing the Sunday roast.
I slide the knife
into the shoe box
replace the lid.
Now it’s the middle of the night.
I am lying on the floor.
From the light under my door
two voices.
He says, “I’m taking the kid.”
She says, “I’ll do anything.”
Something black comes up from my stomach
covers me.
This child knows
how to die.
Sundays, he sleeps late.
We get up early.
I bring her the knife.
She starts dinner.
His favorite
pot roast sliced thin
pearly white onions
potatoes steamed in their pink jackets
leftovers all week.
-From Traveler in Paradise: New and Selected Poems
© 2018 Donna Hilbert
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