Three Poems

by Justin Karcher

Johnny Appleseed Speaks the Truth About Addiction

They found me hanging from an apple tree

as the worms below sang songs.

Before my last breath, I told my angel

angels don't have souls. She admitted

she’s hollow like a heavenly jack-o-lantern.

Too much light and no guts.

During the War on Terror, I Fell in Love With a Girl Whose Grandpa Was a Boxer

This one night we drove 

through the wine drunk Finger Lakes

where the moon was shaped 

like a pelvic bone. We pulled over 

to the side of the road and stared at it. 

There were tired-looking sleepwalkers 

carrying guitars up and down it. 

Despite everything, they were still 

trying to create something beautiful. 

When Obama was elected, she flew 

into social work like a bird and I never 

saw her again. So I sing of her the way 

any Rust Belt boy should: full of regret 

and sweating through another century.

My Ex-wife Tells Me Her New Mother-In-Law Will Take in Our Dead Friend’s Cat

and it makes my heart happy because every 

living thing deserves a home. Sometimes 

I feel like I’m still looking. Later that day

I'm at a winter solstice party where a woman 

holding a fake candle eats all the hummus

in one bite. The psychic on the tiny stage 

conjures archangels for those in need. Afterward

outside in the bitter cold, I watch a dragonfly

land on some underwear on the sidewalk.

BIO: Justin Karcher (Twitter: @justin_karcher, Bluesky: @justinkarcher.bsky.social) is a Best of the Net- and Pushcart-nominated poet and playwright from Buffalo. He is the author of several books, including Tailgating at the Gates of Hell (Ghost City Press, 2015). Recent playwriting credits include The Birth of Santa (American Repertory Theater of WNY) and “The Buffalo Bills Need Our Help” (Alleyway Theatre). https://www.justinkarcherauthor.com