Best Poem of Waldemar Ens

Pellet Gun
Leans in the corner of the garage
hard unyielding
like a stone in your sandal
brown wooden varnish
black narrow barrel
I see it and my mind synapses back to backyard
of adolescence
shooting rusty cans
the mild kick in the shoulder
walking into garden
hand off the trigger
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Winter Love
White snow crunches under black boots hunched
against harsh wind biting at face in the late
dawn of early winter everything zips up into
itself and closes up shop pulling down shutters
and drying up like a raisined grape in the
cruel dry air of December and our breath escapes
in bursts of white fog rising and . . .
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