Three poems · John Repp

Better Watch It or I’ll Lay One on Your Head

The boy had one laid one
on his head. The wind lifted
his hair and laid it
down again. He brushed an ant
from his toe and watched it run.

A friend said What can you say
about mortality? after I’d grieved
and stopped, grieved, stopped.

I should be grateful
because you would be,
though you are no you.

Last night I forgot
all but hot applesauce
spooned from the crock,

then heard sleet tick
on the windows. I hate
it here. You are ash.


for PT and CH

No hope.
No ghost gaunt amid feasting.
No fear, though each breath bring it.

Wind ripples the pond.
Clover, cornflowers, sumac in high sun.
Eat the meal

spread between you-
bread, peaches, wine,
mortal kiss.