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Poetry from NHI publications

PRE-MARITAL HONEYMOON IN PARIS
For years he had done all of the right things, though that morning Sacrifice stretched throughout each day: students wanting answers, parents coaxing pity, hungry brothers grabbing all of the precious moments in between. Desperately he needed to be fed, to be filled, and she was full, strong, sure of her answers, and coming off the beer and football bounce. They both caught the easy flight to Orly. The fifth day the sun slunk into the room, embarrassed, stopped by the knees of her note: This will never work; let's cut our losses. Gathering fifty years in a suitcase he fell down the stairs from Le Paradis. What had he studied here long ago? Noon found him crossing Boulevard Saint-Germain to the oldest and most understanding church in Paris, Supe's iron gate was locked.
THOMAS KRETZ

PRE-MARITAL HONEYMOON IN PARIS

For years he had done all of the right things,
though that morning Sacrifice stretched throughout
each day: students wanting answers, parents
coaxing pity, hungry brothers grabbing
all of the precious moments in between.
Desperately he needed to be fed, to be filled,
and she was full, strong, sure of her answers,
and coming off the beer and football bounce.
They both caught the easy flight to Orly.

The fifth day the sun slunk into the room,
embarrassed, stopped by the knees of her note:
This will never work; let's cut our losses.
Gathering fifty years in a suitcase
he fell down the stairs from Le Paradis.
What had he studied here long ago? Noon
found him crossing Boulevard Saint-Germain
to the oldest and most understanding
church in Paris, Supe's iron gate was locked.

THOMAS KRETZ

from
New Hope International New Series #11

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