September 2019
Perry S. Nicholas
perrynicholas53@aol.com​
I am an English Professor at SUNY at Erie North in Buffalo, N.Y. I have published one textbook of poetry prompts, three full-length and five chapbooks of original poetry, and two CDs of poetry. I have hosted four poetry venues in the WNY area. You can see my work at perrynicholas.com.
 
AMARYLLIS

 
With an affected British accent,
I pronounce the name like a little boy,
exaggerating the end with a lisp.
 
A flower not likely to re-bloom— 
not here or in South Africa, my dear,
yet I still see beauty as it approaches,
 
slow motion across fields of friendship.    
I don’t detect petals vibrating
in the wind anymore, so tuck this poem
 
into your pocket, my belladonna of song.
I haven’t heard music lately without weeping,

mispronounce the genus of Amaryllis.





THE SHOTGUN SPEAKS TO THE MAN

                        What have I to dread, what have I to fear,
                        leaning on the everlasting arms.
 
I’ll never let you forget I live
in a closet of the upstairs room,
 
where you spend most moments
flat on your back, immersed in
 
black-and-white film noir, trying
to disremember how low a spirit can go
 
on its own, left unattended too long.
I lean in the deepest corner of your mind
 
behind the row of sportscoats begging
to be chosen according to weekday or mood.  
 
I’ve never been fired, not sure you know
which end of the cartridge enters first.
 
This is truly not meant to be funny, friend,
though I hear a laugh along with your moan.
 
Break me down. I’m waiting in the dark
to be summoned, well-oiled and caring.
 
 



WHAT WE CALL FALL-SPRING

 
We change, and then again,
around a strange period of exhaustion.
 
Long ago, age didn’t matter,
and we loved more than we ever felt
 
possible through the cold gap of winter.
We scanned a book, cover to cover,
 
100 Things to See in the Night Sky,
and the planets shown clear,
 
stars shaped into something wider
than two shifting seasons of love.​ 
©2019 Perry S. Nicholas
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