One Sentence Poems

Steve Klepetar Confession I would confess to you here by this dark pond, tell you everything that happened when I fell to earth, carve your name on my wrist, request your blessing on my little wound. Steve Klepetar is grateful for the Ambidextrous Bloodhound Dental Plan.    

Steve Klepetar At the Shore My friend, whose ears are full of sirens and sea sounds, who cannot quiet the noise, sits among rocks as seabirds leap into a silence of sky. Steve Klepetar is grateful for the Ambidextrous Bloodhound Dental Plan.    

Steve Klepetar Austin Street We went to see the blind man juggle in the middle of Austin Street where he stood in moonlight, a figure in a dream, until the police led him away, skipping into the night, an actor torn from a comic film. Steve Klepetar has spent the pandemic pretending to study calculus […]

Steve Klepetar Wraiths It’s possible to see them if you lean out the window and hold your glass just so, but even then, they remain wrapped in fog that billows from the sea, so what you perceive, if you see anything at all, might be a shade of a shade, a little movement at the […]

Steve Klepetar Swallow Island I heard the horses nicker, saw them gallop across the field just as rain began pelting down, and I thought of you then, your long hair and your eyes, how you would have loved the sight of those wet beasts kicking up mud as they raced for home. Steve Klepetar drives […]

Steve Klepetar Poker Face Beneath our enchanting facial expressions the skull always waits, poker face. Tomas Transtromer It holds eights and aces, lingers awhile over the last bet as the pot swells, ice clinks in the glasses, cigar smoke curls, and in the background a soft guitar, a woman singing about the endless road. Steve […]

Steve Klepetar Glowworms A man plays trumpet on the Third Avenue platform, while the crowd swirls around him and my mother growls “I’d pay him not to play,” his notes glowing in the black tunnel like glowworms on a summer night. Steve Klepetar’s sons have forgiven him for chasing them around the house reciting the […]

Steve Klepetar Monopoly My cousins built green houses, red hotels, I bought a railroad or two, and then my aunt came in with cookies, but they were burnt, so we crumbled them in our fingers, dropped an offering to the scattering birds. Steve Klepetar has never completed a game of Monopoly.