Other Poems by:

Anthony Schreiber

Blind and Dead

She found him
knew she would
the whole ride over
still didn't speed
couldn't let on
to herself
that she knew

she was glad she did
it was only fair
or fitting
or lucky

What if someone else
did find him
and pierced his ears
with their cries of terror
or fear
or whatever it is they feel when confronted with death

what if the police came
and moved him
an inch would have been too much
but what if they cleaned him up
and put him in the black bag
and zipped him up

It was too much to think about
suffice it to say
she was lucky

she found him
sitting in the corner
propped against the wall
staring at her
through blind and dead eyes

the wall behind his head
formerly deep purple
had been painted over in places
a more natural color
with a 44 caliber brush


just one stroke
a calculated
effective
efficient
and final stroke


she sat with him
or at least in the same room
in the same position
but on the opposite wall
a mirror image
except for her occasional movement

the cigarettes accumulated on the floor
just below her right hand
which was balanced on her knee
she was drunk
on white wine
from his refrigerator
and his cigarettes tasted so good
and he looked so good
and she slept soundly

until the morning
when she set about the task of preserving the scene
for prosperity
she would do it just as he had instructed
she knew how
she had listened carefully

when he spoke
while she pretended not to listen
she had swore to him she wouldn't do this
knowing the day
would come
when she would
find him
blind and dead


She tool her daughter to see him
at the Met
when she turned ten
their last name
no longer matched the one on the installation
below the title
"Blind and Dead"


she paused
the daughter did
longer than she had yet
just looking
remained expressionless
none of the usual comments
or hands covering mouths or turning away
before moving on
with her life


By Anthony Schreiber

Untitled 1

deadbeats hang around my block 
like ornaments from the lower branches of a christmas tree 

I have no presents 
and they have no presence 

I see no one and no one sees me 

I am invisible 
anonymous 
dead 

They have each other

By Anthony Schreiber


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