God Holds Grudges
The one of us who grew too quickly
makes jokes at the rest of our expense.
He laughs at the empathy we share.
He sees nothing clearly, being blind
since birth, both stubborn and angry
at a god who gave him bulk and brawn
but never listens to the prayers he offers
asking for sunlight and a hint of colors.
Still, he dances at the Sunday altar and
preaches from a raging pulpit about the
innate value of life and the need
for obedience and unquestioning faith
and piety. Then he drinks himself stupid
and slaps the whore who lies beside him
across her red lips because she says she
loves him and that her unborn child
is his. He does not preach forgiveness.
He does not forgive. God holds grudges,
he says. And this is how he worships.
This is how he lives his sorry life.
Opening the Mind
Now this is
the key to passing one
piece of knowledge
to another person’s
mind: Take one
and place it
on your tongue.
Do not savor it
for long. Do
Share it with
at a time.
. . . . . . . And
and sparks fly across synapses,
there is thunder
in the distance.
The Good Parts
The dead rabbits look so sad
as grandpa’s knife separates fur
from flesh, but we are glad
to have nourishment so packed
with protein and luck. We
suck marrow from the bones.
My brother is partial to the
brains, slow-boiled still in the
skull with what’s left of the rich stew.
Grandma stitches the skins
together to make a blanket for
the baby’s new bed.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . And I
read to him stories of Br’er Rabbit,
of post-war southern reconstruction,
leaving out the good parts—
the jolly poverty and zip-
Eric Blanchard grew up in Houston, Texas. He earned degrees in philosophy (B.A.) and jurisprudence (J.D.). Eric has practiced law, written appellate briefs, been editor-in-chief of an international trade law journal, and worked as an adviser for a state representative in the Texas legislature.
Eric’s poetry has been published in numerous literary journals and reviews, both on-line and in print, including Autumn Sky Poetry, Rust and Moth, Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review, Pudding Magazine, Amarillo Bay, Turbulence, and Poetry Quarterly.
He currently resides in Dayton, Ohio with his beautiful girlfriend, her young son, three dogs, and two tiny fish.
–Art by Peter Lamata