Monday, August 1, 2016

A Poem by John McKernan


Skiing across a tar pit
With a mosquito on your tongue

Stealing something like a penny
While you know
Your dad is watching

Thinking the ghost
In a dream is real
And wants
Your watch for a birthday present

Waving rusted needles
At the bottom
Of the sewer
Looking up the word high
In some poet's dictionary

John McKernan grew up in Omaha, Nebraska, and is now a retired comma herder/Phonics Coach after teaching for 41 years at Marshall University.  He lives in West Virginia and Florida.  His most recent book is a selected poems, Resurrection of the Dust.  He has published poems in The Atlantic Monthly, The Paris Review, The New Yorker, Virginia Quarterly Review, The Journal, Antioch Review, Guernica, Field and many others.

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