Editor’s Note: This is the 3rd in a series of poems by Victor Clevenger about his son, nicknamed “The Milkman”
Thursday Evening in September
for nothing more
than to close an open window
i rushed into the first room on the left
with a bust-down-a-door
cop mentality
& his sudden search for concealment
reminded me why
it’s always best to knock first
& wait for him to finish twisting the knob
before entering the room with caution
it doesn’t always take a gunshot
or a slice from a sharp blade
to leave a scar
sometimes
it’s just a hard object
gripped by a hand
Victor Clevenger’s latest chapbook of poetry, Low-Flying Birds, is available here on AIOTB Magazine as a free pdf.
About the Author: Victor Clevenger spends his days in a Madhouse and his nights writing poetry. Selected pieces of his work have appeared in print magazines and journals around the world. He is the author of several collections of poetry including Sandpaper Lovin’ (Crisis Chronicles Press, 2017), A Finger in the Hornets’ Nest (Red Flag Poetry, 2018), and Corned Beef Hash By Candlelight (Luchador Press, 2019). Together with American poet John Dorsey, they run River Dog.
More by Victor Clevenger:
Image Credit: “West bedroom, second floor, door to hall – Robert Pierce House, 24 Oakton Avenue, Dorchester, Suffolk County, MA” The Library of Congress (public domain)
As It Ought To Be 