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Miscarriage
i tried to sell my soul
last week but could only
think of two places
to offer it for sale
the man at the
liquor store on the
corner said that he
had more souls than
he could ever need
and the pawn shop
wouldn't give me
a decent price so i
bought a tv instead
now every night
my girlfriend
and i watch
old detective movies,
marveling at how trouble
is always
five foot six
and blonde
the day after
i bought the tv
i decided to start
smoking so i would be
considered a success
when i quit something
my father used to smoke
when he told stories
about his own father,
and once, after a story
about a small blues club
in Mississippi, i asked
if he could buy me a guitar
but he said money
doesn't grow on trees
unless you're from
the suburbs
or a politician
there was a book
in our bookcase called
"a tree grows in brooklyn"
but it must not have been
the right kind of tree
and the look my father
gave me when he had to say no
hurt more than any calluses
guitar strings could give me
lately i've been taking
long baths in the shower
instead of the bathtub
my girlfriend says it's
too shallow but i
want to know just
what the bottom
feels like
it was easier when
i was just saying
i was going to be
a stay at home dad,
easier when i was
trying to remember
all my father's stories,
easier when there was
still a baby in her womb
Pat Wallace has been published in The Fairfield Review,
Shadow Poetry Quarterly Magazine, and PKA's The Advocate, as well as served as
assistant editor on the spring 2007 edition of Dogwood. He currently resides in Manhattan.
Email: Pat Wallace
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