One Sentence Poems

Steve Klepetar Sunday Here in the garden, where nobody waits, we wrap our bodies in fog, river’s breath, and our eyes strain to see past this flesh into other lives. Steve Klepetar has taught one of his granddaughters to do the Loco-Motion, though she insists that it is not easier than learning her ABCs.  

Steve Klepetar Bread My grandfather tore his bread, sloshed it around brown gravy, bent over his plate, but my grandmother buttered hers with light, demure dabs, and If I could find their graves, I’d pour out red libations, feel their bodies buried deep in mine. Steve Klepetar has taught one of his granddaughters to do […]

Steve Klepetar The King’s Fool The king hanged his fool today before sun lit up the sky, before heat roared in, roasting the spindly trees, but the fool returned with his tongue stuck out the side of his mouth while the king kept his back to the sea, which growled in its deep, gray throat, […]

Steve Klepetar Red Dogs Red dogs in the neighborhood, here’s how they hunt: teeth on doorknobs, tails mast stiff in a west wind’s blast, every paw a bloody flower on the street. Steve Klepetar misses many people, but has learned not to weep over broken lamps.    

Steve Klepetar Red Maple Some faces you have forgotten, but others crowd your dreams, and when you wake in summer, they linger near the red maple that glitters in your yard. Steve Klepetar, a regular contributor on One Sentence Poems, is an only child who dreams up strange siblings. 

Steve Klepetar The Weight of Time What will become of the cardinal I saw flitting from our deck to a young tree’s naked branch, red flash against the sky? Steve Klepetar, a regular contributor on One Sentence Poems, is an only child who dreams up strange siblings. 

Steve Klepetar By the Sea My sister, who lived by the sea, had a mind like an ocean, tangled with wind and sky, a body made of fog that leaped into air, became a kestrel or gull whose secret name hung ragged in winter trees. Steve Klepetar, a regular contributor on One Sentence Poems, is […]

Steve Klepetar Looking Down When night blazes, when our eyes turn to lanterns, when we climb away from heat, looking down, when we watch our houses burn and everything turn to ash, we come to know how quickly fire swallows towns, how all around the hills burn, and under earth rivers boil toward the sea. […]