Author Archive

My Father’s Business Coupe

By John Sangster

It had its comforts.
Beneath the seat, a pint of Old-Granddad
in a brown paper sack.
Behind the seat, a bag of peanuts
shells and all.

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When I Knew the Makes and Models

By John Sangster

I could walk down Hamlin street,
name them all: 1939 Lincoln Zephyr,
`41 Chevrolet Special Deluxe Coupe.
A boy, ten years old,
alone in his world of cars.

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Comeona’ My Kitchen

By John Sangster

Push back the chrome dinette.
Slow dance on my linoleum
(clock radio knows the hits).
Tonight we cookin’.

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Flat Poem

By John Sangster

This the
Flat-ass truth. Cruisin’ down
Flatbush when Boom!
Flat tire. Gets out, hears music—third-floor

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Guitar Propped Upright in My Study Corner

By John Sangster

Mother’s violin waits in the attic,
wondering if it remembers how to sing.
Father’s songs (It meant he was happy)
hang in the air.

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