Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Matt Hohner: Confirmation

for Klaude


What is the sound
of regret through the wind
at sixteen feet per second?


Your feet, empty
as beams of light.
Your smile a dead


The stone moved aside.
An empty tomb.
She found your burial clothes
laid out neatly on your bed.

Age of Discretion

You must have wanted
as I stood with you
before Christ.
You must have known.

Lead us not.
Lead us not into.
Lead us.


In a car. On a lot. In the daylight. You paid the boy.
You hated yourself. Your prayers were flagellants.


You were drunk in the car when they pulled you over.
They brought you before the judge. You were guilty. You fled.
They crucified you in the news. I denied your name to myself.
You were drunk in the car when they pulled you over again.

Facing hard time, you knew it was time to go.
If only Judas were there to kiss you goodbye.


Heart burst like water.
Ribs caved in like jars of clay.
Teeth exploded in shards.
Brains become jelly.
Bones become dust.

Accipe signaculum doni Spiritus Sancti[1]

A note left behind on the seat of a car on a bridge over the river.


Now, the quiet trees. Now, the darkness.
Now the odor of iron and wet stone
rising in the cool June air.

[1] Be sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Matt Hohner holds an M.F.A. in Writing and Poetics from Naropa University in Boulder, Colorado.  His work has appeared in The Mom Egg Review, The Baltimore Review, Dancing Shadow Review, September Eleven: Maryland Voices, Poets Against the War (online), The Potomac (online), Lily (online), and other publications. Hohner lives in Baltimore, Maryland.

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