3 poems by Sam Kerbel

The Days

Other people ruin things.

You work hard, someone 

Comes round and, with almost

No effort, tears it down.

Labor is funny this way.

Your work is only hard for you.

Or, better said,

Finds meaning in having

A partner. Someone to shape

The hours with, to pass 

Time as time waves passing by.

Labor is man meeting man

In his realm, with his voice,

Rearranging the dreadful 

Order into songs of motion,

Songs of flight, of the people

Who come and go here, 

Wilderness of animal and rock.

Not abundant, just free enough

To carry what we need. 

Star Door

Your hair curls like a warm cat

On your pillow,

Letting the moon’s milk in,

And lets the morning pass

And dances 

While we fight—

Lower than low I feel 

And do not know the way 

Out, but everyone 

Is looking down.

That chime is golden

And radiant like a smile,

It looks like light 

Dancing on your ashtray

Like that flabby devil 

You know so well.

Life has that uncanny way

Of bearing you to death

And lifts her head 

Into your cherry bowl

Chewing on the juice.

Morning Evening

Combed from the headlights of an old sidecar

A letter bearing a dream is delivered 

To the door. Oh god can he drink

Deep & asleep in his smeuse

The lampposts are romantic enough

For the walk to proceed, for wine

And bread to resurrect & shine

The poplars would sing

Above the sighs of the engine

Awaiting a final tryst

A broken heart being a familiar ruin

As the shadow of lipstick in glass is

Your hand turns the door

To the facts of night

Made manifest by toes curled to the floor

That deep breath which could inhale all seas

Traveled & anointed by God’s animals

A tumble down the slopes of taste

Bring you to a beaten garden

Whose stones frolic as ripest fruit

Bend their necks toward being eaten

That a little death is not too bad a thing

So mankind too was made for this rehearsal 

The misshapen grains of love’s tongue

Mimic the lines for you to sing

As lights bloom electrically

Camels are blessed

Shame savors this moment 

Before she rests

___________

Sam Kerbel lives in New York, and was recently shortlisted for the 2024 Oxford Poetry Prize. His first chapbook, Can't Beat the Price (2025), is available from Bottlecap Press. His poems have appeared in Libre and Eunoia Review.