Saturday, May 25, 2013

The Sound of Sugar....Stephanie E. Schlaifer

Similitude

The room that they
have brought us to
is dark            you cannot
see the body
     not because of this
but because of this
you might expect
a service       someone
to officiate
but it’s nothing
but waiting
you and the room’s
true elephant
handsome as a piece
of furniture   accordingly
appointed           Purposely,
no one is looking
in it           Ask why
it is so dark
why the room
is red       why
the room is always
red      and gracious
as a hotel bar
a red room
like the one
on television         heavy
curtains covering
false windows
a riddle in its sleep
which hastens you
to navigate
an opening              Imagine then
an otherwise clear
night in winter
sharp glass
a quarter-mile from the
Fort George
Island Bridge
the glove compartment
splintering
her chest                  And now
so many visitors
cake makeup
a barricade
of tacky wreaths
If navy blue
is dark enough
ask why
you cannot
see the body





About the Poet:
Stephanie E. Schlaifer is originally from Atlanta, GA and works as an artist and freelance editor in St. Louis, MO. She received her BFA in sculpture and BA in English literature from Washington University in St. Louis, and an MFA in poetry from the University of lowa. Stephanie is a combative Boggler and a compulsive baker. It is rumored that two men once arm-wrestled each other to death for the last slice of her pecan pie. She is currently working on a series of poems about historical weather events and a collection of children’s books in verse.


About the Sound of Sugar:
We’ve loved reading the work that we’ve published (clearly), so now we want an opportunity to better hear our contributors. We will feature an audio recording of a poem from one of our seven issues, read by the poet and updated every couple of weeks. This an open invitation to all contributors from any of our issues, we were delighted to print your work, now we’re eager to hear it.

Saturday, May 11, 2013

The Sound of Sugar....Patrick Thomas Henry

“Death, If You Don’t Mind, Please Come To The Front Of The Class”

teacher adjusts the half
moons of her glasses, her chalk
ticking against the slate
in three crumbling clicks, &

dust sprinkles like incense
ash cast from a silver thurible
onto the sooty erasers’
plastic catafalque ledge, &

the boy pushes himself off
by his elbows, his black sweat-
shirt, sizes too big, gathers
over his bony hips, &

the rheumy-eyed class mute,
expressionless, turns aside, turns
pale, turns to limestone white,
blue-veined note paper, &

the boy steps to teacher’s
tallies, graphite powder,
chalk dust, graveling the path
beyond a roster of the listless &

the inattentive, the absent




About the Poet:
Patrick Thomas Henry holds an MA in English Literature from Bucknell University and an MFA in Creative Writing from Rutgers University. Currently, he is pursuing his Ph.D. at the George Washington University.  His fiction, poetry, and reviews have appeared (or are forthcoming) in Green Briar Review, Revolution House, The Writing Disorder, The Writing Disorder Anthology, Northville Review, Sugar House Review, Modern Language Studies, and The Short Review.  He also contributes to The Story Prize’s blog.  He lives in Alexandria, VA, with his girlfriend and their cat.               


About the Sound of Sugar:
We’ve loved reading the work that we’ve published (clearly), so now we want an opportunity to better hear our contributors. We will feature an audio recording of a poem from one of our seven issues, read by the poet and updated every couple of weeks. This an open invitation to all contributors from any of our issues, we were delighted to print your work, now we’re eager to hear it.