Three Poems by Frank William Finney

Urban Vignette

I’m perched on top 

of these granite steps

 

close to the entrance

of Betty’s Used Books.

 

I pull out a sandwich 

and forget where I am.

 

A pigeon swoops down

to remind me. 

 

 

Three Square Fare at Hollow Home

 

I

Sally from Somewhere sent back her breakfast.

“I told them, over easy and look what they gave me:

 

Yolks running a marathon!

Can’t even fry us a bloody egg

 

and then they have the gall to say 

we piss our pajamas and moan through meals—

 

As if we had a choice. 

 

II

I don’t know. 

He’s usually early.

 

Something’s up.

He’s seldom late.

 

Shall I ask the nurse

to save him a sandwich?

 

 

III

You could smell sickness &

Pine-Sol & canned green peas

the instant you got past the lobby.

 

Most of the lifers 

were still at their meals 

when we spotted Aunt Lucy 

 

already at dessert,

spooning up the remnants 

of her crumble and cream.

 

 

The Dicker of Wakefield  

When everything

you try

goes wrong.

 

When words

are worse

for loss.

 

Remember

Jams, 

the Ginger Man,

 

sends 

dick pics

to his boss.

 

 

Bio: Frank William Finney is a Massachusetts poet and retired lecturer who taught literature in Thailand from 1995 to 2020.  He is a joint winner of the Letter Review Prize in Poetry (May-June 2023). His poems have appeared in numerous journals including Door is a Jar, Moss Piglet, and Slipstream. His chapbook The Folding of the Wings was published in 2022.