Keith Langdon

Cricket, our cat
knows where it’s at
when she lies flat
where I just sat
...

Severance
Over the years,
the hands, now slightly arthritic
and wrinkled by the many multiples
...

The urinal, a worthy fixture,
is functional, but more -
it reassures the nervous male
he’s entered the right door.
...

A nurse
(who works with dying patients)
introduced us to her friends today:
...

A sweaty man in dirty t-shirt
scrapes a lifeless mass of blood and puppy fur,
leaving stains on highway asphalt,
and on the memory of a curbside boy,
...

I gripped the frame of the bathroom door,
looked back at my wife as she sat in bed,
and with fear and confusion loudly whispered
that not only was our toilet missing,
...

Lord, I really love my job, I really truly do,
but in the name of honesty, I must confess to you
that there are certain characteristics of this youthful age
that sometimes place my pressure at the hypertensive stage.
...

Make this the year, Lord, about to commence,
when promises made are no more future tense,
when positive changes and goals of the heart
go beyond conversation and actually start.
...

and the Devil and his demons danced.

Blackness bullied its shoulders into midday.
Shadows filled the mosaics of light and
...

Two hours and fifteen minutes
from the new year -
my brother died.
A long time coming.
...

Man of God, outstretched palm
covered by golden leaves of Holy Scripture,
shouts to the world of repentance, right,
salvation, damnation, and sacrifice.
...

Suffering from a mental itch.
haven’t birthed a poem in a while.
You’d think with daily belching of
...

A fragrant trail meandered through sweet clover
behind the gangly fourteen-year-old.
With Zebco and battered tacklebox in hand,
...

Stunned, I watched a pale young man
with tight, clenched fists and hard, set lips,
perched upon a twelfth-floor ledge,
lean forward, and without a word
...

In morning's warmth,
a breath of March strokes a blade
of resting green.
A crystal sliver of Winter snow
...

I sometimes suffer from fits.
Fits of melancholy, that in my early teens
drew me to the darkest recesses
of the mow of a dilapidated barn,
...

Dressed in a shimmering, doll-sized cheerleader uniform,
and surrounded by adoring fans
and wide-eyed Polly Pockets,
...

In a fetal wastecan,
between a man of God
and a sadistic killer –
two lovers touch.
...

Sugar-glazed driveways
reflect licorice branches
that beckon meringue mounds
spattered with stone sprinkles
...

In quiet hush of infant day,
The room was cast in black and gray,
When I was startled from my sleep
With knocking at my door.
...