Poetry By Susan Vespoli

Judith Jackson CC




Walking across the Walgreens parking lot in downtown Phoenix

                 “If you stop pampering (feeding) her, maybe she’ll change her ways.” 
                                       ~a well-meaning friend 


Brakes
squeal—light rail,
city bus, ocean waves of traffic.
Someone’s head rests on a backpack, naps
beneath blanket beside dumpster.

I
always do
a double take to see if it’s one
of my kids, even though Adam 
died. Still, I look, sigh, then say, bless.

Flock
of pigeons
beak down, ecstatic pecking, dining
on saltines, a whole box 
tossed, square communion wafers, strewn.

Ding!
Text from Kate:
Mom, can you order me a milkshake
from Jack-in-the-Box? Birds
sup on asphalt. How can I not?

​


Susan Vespoli is a poet from Arizona who writes to stay sane. Her work has been published in Anti-Heroin Chic, ONE ART: a journal of poetry, Rattle, and other cool spots. Susan Vespoli - Author, Poet