two poems
by Len Kuntz
Sugar Ants
Back then he could say he was young and foolish desperate for love same as anyone still lithe and thick-haired easy with a laugh or smirk Maybe it was one of the girls who gave him the handle Sugar because it stuck like a lozenge meant to be sucked instead of swallowed He was different later of course had to find his women through electronics and habituation sly scouting At home the ants came out of cracks in columns thinner than scars or ligature marks black specks the size of shredded pepper vermin that hustled over the sink counter bathroom tiles and bedside nightstand Mom was always jittery yet she felt lucky loving the quarterback all these years jesting You still got it Sugar even the critters want some But at that point it was he who did the sourcing a detective on and off the job his assignment as he saw it to reclaim the glory days which were my unspoken thoughts not his for how do you make sense when it hugs you pats your back says Son you’re a tall bastard now that laugh again his new set of eyes nearly as black as the ants that danced throughout our home the ones that still come looking.
Why I Take the Bus
She’s always in the back
my daughter
strapped safely in
the car seat
asleep or making up
sign language
with her chubby fingers
the ones I used to
nibble so she’d giggle
my daughter
who will never turn
older than three
asleep and dreaming
in the back seat
where the sun isn’t scorching
where no one’s left her
and she isn’t locked
inside a car
Photo of Len Kuntz
BIO: Len Kuntz is a writer from Washington State and the author of six books, most recently, THINGS I CAN’T EVEN TELL MYSELF, out from Ravenna Press. You can find more of his writing at https://lenkuntz.blogspot.com