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Venom!: Fiction by Pamela Ebel
A Case of Paracosm: Fiction by Bruce Costello
There's More then One Way to Catch a Bank Robber: Fiction by Roy Dorman
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Trans/Figure: Fiction by Michael Steven
Secretary to a Serial Killer: Fiction by Robert Jeschonek
The Big Well: Fiction by Kenneth James Crist
Sooter: Fiction by Ron Capshaw
Heidi: Fiction by Tony Ayers
A Spider Among the Flies: Fiction by Gary Earl Ross
He Wore a Purple Heart Inside a Gray Uniform: Fiction by John C. Mannone
So Bright They Were, So Bright: Fiction by Paul Radcliffe
Coyote-Murder-House: Flash Fiction by Hillary Lyon
Spring Cleaning: Flash Fiction by Mikki Aronoff
Chuck Cody: Flash Fiction by Fred Zackel
While My Mother Dreams of Judge Judy: Flash Fiction by Tina Barry
Snoopy: Flash Fiction by Cindy Rosmus
Afternoon on the Beach: Poem by Elizabeth Zelvin
crowbars and middle fingers: Poem by Rob Plath
Lavender: Poem by Cindy Rosmus
Insouciant: Poem by KJ Hannah Greenberg
Fire: Poem by Bernice Holtzman
7 ways of Seeing a Scar: Poem by Jack Garrett
Freddy on 14th Street: Poem by Jack Garrett
Peace, Baby: Poem by Meg Baird
The Light: Poem by Meg Baird
The lunatic equation and the lemon revolution: Poem by Partha Sarkar
A knife with three wheels: Poem by Partha Sarkar
Belle in the Bottom: Poem by g emil reutter
Glint: Poem by g emil reutter
Marathon Key: Poem by Damon Hubbs
Pretzels: Poem by Damon Hubbs
Times Argus: Poem by Damon Hubbs
Phillip: Poem by John Doyle
The Indiscretion: Poem by John Doyle
The Sadness and Beauty of Car Boot Sales: Poem by John Doyle
Cartoons by Cartwright
Hail, Tiger!
Strange Gardens
ALAT
Dark Tales from Gent's Pens

John Doyle: The Indiscretion

99_ym_theindiscretion_holtzman.jpg
Art by Bernice Holtzman 2023

The Indiscretion

 

by John Doyle

 

I.F.I. Dublin, March 2017

 

My seat was a pink-elbowed virgin,

a bait scarved-snipers Dublin draws

this time of the willing equinox;

you settle into your book-club novel,

heron returned to shore having pierced stupid waters, 

like invader, 

like cascading WW2 bomber—

like something that un-knows harmony and takes all its leviathan days 

shaking them from its soaking gob—

across the couch where you took my throne and sat there 

like that witch who’d bitch-slap Charlie Brown as if it were her birthright,

as if it were the predetermined route of life.

Could you pity lukewarm coffee

screaming down a plughole as you hide behind your book-club excuses, knowing,

suitably silent?

That was my seat, life was beautiful there 

and through the skylight the stars for once 

called me by my name—

What name do you ride your mule by—Judas, Raffles, Rizzo? 

Not Stella or Nightingale, that I can safely say.

What shames me more is Iscariot’s son—at the door, telling me nothing—and I smile meekly



John Doyle likes to write poems about James Garner, Ella Fitzgerald, and Bertie Windsor. Sometimes he writes about other stuff, too.

Bernice Holtzman’s paintings and collages have appeared in shows at various venues in Manhattan, including the Back Fence in Greenwich Village, the Producer’s Club, the Black Door Gallery on W. 26th St., and one other place she can’t remember, but it was in a basement, and she was well received.

In Association with Black Petals & Fossil Publications 2023