Two Poems by John Findura





Matter doesn’t matter
it runs like a buck
through thick brush
and you brush your
hair, thin as you are
lacking things that don’t
matter walking and walking
in your coat that I
can’t wear that maybe
I wanted to wear
that I wasn’t allowed
to wear and this street
where a woman died
in this street where
you walk in your coat
hairless underneath
some somnambulist
this or that that you are
walking where I won’t
follow toward the street
where a woman died
and everywhere is where
a woman died wearing
a coat that you are naked
underneath that I want
to be naked underneath
you with or without
this coat





We can shave each other
so smooth that we shine
so bright that we wear
coats to save the eyes
of all the passersby
and I’ll run my hands over
you until you know
the feel of my hands
like I know the feel of
nothing which I know so well




John Findura holds an MFA from The New School as well as a degree in psychotherapy. His poetry and criticism appear in numerous journals including VerseFourteen HillsCopper NickelPleiadesForklift, OhioH_NGM_NPrelude; and Rain Taxi. A guest blogger for The Best American Poetry, he has won and been a finalist for various awards. He lives in Northern New Jersey with his wife and daughters.

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