The Tower Journal

Richard Luftig

What they had

was like a gentle rain
of seed from the feeder
when finches share

or the confluence
of river joining
from different directions.

like what you see
when you tilt your head
down, down to that

elliptical light
that God had in mind
when He brought them
together, or the water

stirred by two children
emerging from where
the surf meets sand,

they kicking their legs
to the sky simply
for the joy
of the world.

rush hour

and why the rush
if we aren’t
moving? more like
a sit hour
or two.

there’s an accident
up ahead tying
things up;
not a wreck requiring

the Jaws of Life
but your average
fender-bender pushed
off to the side

where rubberneckers
can give it the cold shoulder
an oasis where beyond
it is free and easy
and moving.

still, nothing
to do now but watch
folks in the carpool lane
by with no one

inside except the driver
and curse why
there is never
a cop around
when you need one

all the time
there might be two
of me so I could arrive
home in half the time.

Fault Line

The ground
shifts beneath
their seismology

of lies, this precise
point where anything
worth saving hangs

on as best it can.
Whatever they had
is broken now, crooked,

splintered, an entire
foundation crumbling
to dust before their very eyes.

Copyright © 2014 Richard Luftig

Richard LuftigRichard Luftig is a past professor of educational psychology and special education at Miami University in Ohio who now resides in California. He is a recipient of the Cincinnati Post-Corbett Foundation Award for Literature and a semi- finalist for the Emily Dickinson Society Award. His poems have appeared in numerous literary journals in the United States and internationally in Japan, Canada, Australia, Europe, Thailand, Hong Kong and India. One of his poems was nominated for the 2012 Pushcart Poetry Prize. He and his wife recently celebrated their 41st wedding anniversary.

The Tower Journal
Fall/Winter 2014