William Teets
Now and Forever
Hiding in the daybreak
of the back row pew,
no one recognizes me out of disguise
I should’ve burned
the whole building down a long time ago,
back before even when God was born
I hold my piece, vow
to remain silent forever
Slip out the side vestibule
before bells ring
your glorious announcement
that no man can tear asunder
Some primal rant roils deep within,
and I wish I had said goodbye
I search for a street savior
to parlay my pain
into a spectacular supremacy of joy
and sacramental goodness
Riding the local to Queens,
I fail to laminate my misery
against the Great Sadness
Rain streaks the tempered graffitied glass,
and I wonder if just one last time
you’ll come and see about me
~
Hard Candy
Reflected raindrops scatter prism beads on pavement, and I promise I’ll love you forever. But you only see multi-shades of moldy-brown, an easter egg dipped in too many dyes at once. Not wicked in your denial, you still haven’t heard the street news that the days of jacking Peter to pay Paul ended in a shootout on the West Fourth courts—say you need to get to Staten Island by morning, and the ferry is always late. When you walk to the corner to flag a cab to the Battery, the colors beneath your heavy heels break apart like hard candy. Over the disorderly street serenade, music pouring out from the bar, all I hear is the taxi door slam shut. I turn, trip, and fall over broken hues of indigo and violet and blue.
William Teets, born in Peekskill, New York, has recently relocated to Southeast Michigan. He misses New York pizza, corner stores, and the Hudson River. Mr. Teets’ work has been published in numerous literary journals and anthologies, including Argyle, Underbelly Press, The Engine (Idling, San Pedro River Review, Ink in Thirds, and Ariel Chart. He is the author of two poetry books, After the Fall (2023) and Babylon Redux (2025), both published by Cajun Mutt Press.
