Hydration Three Poems by Jan Wiezorek

Jan Wiezorek

If you sit and wait,

your limbs weigh heavy,
pulled down, the skin flakes
base your coffee mug.

I noticed this this morning.
My left arm shook dark,
hot mess on my robe.
I will not choose ice water.

Skull flakes round my cup,
where on that dark table
lives a circle, my blessed o!

Newbie Spring 

Roof held by sagging
vital breezes and clothespins,
backyard shed of forgetful rituals,

flowering baby-food lids
cupping hands, held tight
since last season.

Wander down suckling path
toward lake that diapers ice
cut thin by warm blankets.

I stand and wait to hear
dashing burbles of laughing gas
let loose under icy bundles.

Listen for small fry
who hiccups
new life to spring.
Harbor Mind

I’ve trained myself to wait
on whispers, but the dishwasher
drums daytime heartthrobs.

Heating elements tick
diablo rhythm and castanets,
cracking ceramic ridges

behind my eyes. Walking by,
my outside mind gains
harbor calm and floating pen.

I place myself near pliable skiffs
waddling geese wheels; names
so familiar to me that I can spell

them: Mermaid with her tail
resting on sawed wood dock,
and Thundermug for music

strained through Guatemalan
brew. Water always
gets me, its rabbi balancing

on board, pushing her out
from shore, and raising love coos

Author Bio 

Jan Wiezorek has taught writing at St. Augustine College, Chicago, and his poetry has appeared or is forthcoming at <i>The London Magazine</i>, <i>Panoplyzine</i>, <i>Better Than Starbucks</i>, and <i>Schuylkill Valley Journal</i> online. He is author of <i>Awesome Art Projects That Spark Super Writing </i>(Scholastic, 2011) and holds a master's degree in English Composition/Writing from Northeastern Illinois University.


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