Three Poems by Eve Packer

146

she has red hair
this girl, in an upsweep,
sitting on the third step
of the fourth floor
in the hall, at 146—

big sweat,
first rush,
head shoulders body
back eyes thru
ceiling shrugs
‘sometimes you gotta…

up
2 more flights, over
condoms & blood,
intricate inlaid tiles,
bevilled windows broke,
marble cracked, black mold

no heat
to my student jessica, 15,
8 months pregnant, friday
arnd noon, i know just
what she means



after all

you’re a senior citizen
she says, we have to be nice,
here, let me open the door,

we are at bed bath on santa con night,
and

i shlda had this stuff delivered, bought
more, i shlda done alot of things
over time, but i wanna scream:
i am NOT a senior citizen

whatever the fuck that is,
i may be old, ugly in my funny
grey cap, i may be an old broad,

bitch, woman, person, but senior citizen
i am Not

sat, 12/8/18: 9:33 pm

Waiting Room Bench

                                     thurs, 8:01 pm
                                                 1/31/19

 i hear 
before i see
her face: 
NY Irish, older
& drunk
       she says so herself
& loud: 
I was drunk, she says,
I'm not lyin' to ya--
I was drunk--
gestures w/her paper
cup,   I was
drunk & fell
on my butt--I fell
on the concrete--if I
fell on the cat, I wlda 
killed the
cat'--the cat,
says the guy next to her,
guy has a little 
beard, a little
younger, latino, 
the cat, he says,
the cat goes
meeeooww--
my best
  friend she says he
makes me laugh--
she points to the guy
at the end of the
bench, black, light-skin,
you fall she says, yeah,
he says I
fall--between 
them a guy 
under his coat--
can't see his 
face--only the
skin on his ankle
bare & white

if i had fallen
on you--she says, i weigh
170 lbs--you
wlda been dead

15 degrees
on the platform,
the waiting-room
well-heated:
8:08 pm metro-north
mt vernon e. to grand central,
on time: 15 degrees
on the platform
& clear


coda: 8: 45 pm
finds me at grand central,
treat myself to a zaro's pretzel
($3.85 pricey) the counter-guy,
without my asking, toasts it,
 under the stars
& constellations, vaulted night, 
hey, for a sec, its ok

did i mention
first thing you
notice--lips
pressed tight,
she's missing
all her
teeth

thurs, 1/31 pm: 8:01 pm–fri, 2/1/19: 8:08 pm

–Eve Packer


Poetry

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