Archive for the Matt Borczon Category

Three Poems by Matt Borczon

Posted in Matt Borczon with tags on January 16, 2021 by Scot

Selected power house poems from Matt Borczon’s soon to be released book Saved Rounds from Spartan Press

____________

What we teach

When I
was in
Afghanistan
my daughter
was two
so when
I would
skype with
my wife
and her
she would
ask me
come home
and cry
because she
didn’t understand
how far
away the
war was
now she
is twelve
and some
nights she
breaks her
scotch tape
dispenser and
cuts herself
with the
jagged end
on her
thighs long
thin lines
like notebook
paper and
when I
ask her
why she
swears she
doesn’t know
but her
therapist said
it started
when I
deployed earlier
this year
to NYC
for the
pandemic I
was working
in a
makeshift
hospital
the therapist
said my
daughter told
her that
all she
remembers
from my
last deployment
was how
angry she
was that
I would
not come
back to
her and
maybe she
is still
angry that
I left
again
but being
my daughter
she won’t
blame me
and she
is still
too young
to blame
the war
or the
Navy or
the virus
so instead
she writes
angry letters
blaming herself
into her
skin with
anything sharp
she can
find.

____________

Every couple days

My mom
calls and
asks me
to buy
her a
bottle and
pick up
her mail
she has
drank every
day since
my father
died she
is trying
to forget
him and
the feeling
of being
alone that
even four
kids can’t
fill and
I think
we are
all doing
this in
my family
but my
father’s ghost
is thirsty
and the
more I
drink the
louder he
gets but
I buy
my mom
the cheap
whiskey
she likes
now because
she says
it feels
like it
is killing
her faster
and some
nights I
cry as
I try
to imagine
what it
will feel
like down
the road
drinking
with both
of them

____________

Stanley

was 14
and skipping
school the
day some
crazy lady
took 3
shots at
him from
a hunting
pistol on
west 8th
street he
dove behind
a tree
and was
there for
25 minutes
until the
police rushed
her third
floor apartment
and she
put the
gun in
her mouth
and took
the shot
she could
not miss
and Stanley
went home
and never
said a
word to
anyone about
it and
now 42
years later
he eats
amphetamines’
like M and M’s
has been
divorced 3
times and
shows up
uninvited to
his daughters
job at
the Mall
like the
ghost of
Christmas yet
to come
he has
a new
woman in
his bed
usually before
the last
one has
gone and
he can
write a
poem that
can make
a grown
man cry
and he
still says
he never
wants to
own more
than he
can fit
into the
backseat of
his car
and I
think that
he is
like this
because
he was
20 years
too young
when he
learned that
time is
an illusion
and nothing
last forever
so he
has spent
his whole
life running
as hard
as he
possibly can
with no
idea where
he was
supposed
to go
because nobody
is ready
to be
that grown
up at
14.

Two Poems by Matt Borczon

Posted in Matt Borczon with tags on August 11, 2020 by Scot

As a kid

whenever
I walked
past a
dead animal
I would
hold my
breath and
walk fast
to keep
death out
of my
body

I still
do this
maybe
it’s a
reflex or
maybe
I am
trying to
hold it
in now

ten years
of carrying
the ghosts
of Marines
and Afghan
fighters of
dead children
caught in
the crossfire

makes me
think that
people should
hold their
breath and
walk quickly
past me
any time
I cross
their path.

____________

I identify

 

Sitting
with my
kids at
the eye
doctors
watching a
spider crawl
across the
floor when
my daughter
jumps up
walks over
and stomps
the spider
with her
foot I
look at
her and
say I
was just
going to
let it
go by but
my daughter
says it
is a spider
I can’t
do it

and I
wonder
about what
I still
need to
teach her
about respect
for life
in all
it’s forms
when I
don’t say
anything

I think
life is
easy at
12 you
know you
aren’t a
spider that
you are
more important
than any
bug and

I don’t
want to
tell her
that I
know how
it feels
to just
want to
go by
Un noticed
and what
it feels
like to
get stepped
on

I don’t
tell her
that because
I know
life will
over and
over again
soon enough.

Two Poems by Matt Borczon

Posted in Matt Borczon with tags on June 20, 2020 by Scot

Going

My orders
were written
and all
the gear
I need
is in a
duffle bag
by my
door I
will fly
to Philly
bus to
Fort Dix
and work
in a
makeshift
hospital
in NYC
while I
am there
who knows
what I
will do
treat the
sick and
pray for
the souls
of the
dead and
wonder
about 100
years from
now when
all this
is just
a fairytale
about death
becoming
a person
who takes
the form
of a
bat to
fly across
the world
killing everyone
the next
generations
story of
the witch
that eats
children.

____________

Quarantine

 

For 2
weeks I
watch a
construction
crew build
a parking
ramp outside
a hotel
room I
am not
allowed
to leave

and I
think it
is good
that someone
is building
something
because after
deployments to
Afghanistan
in2010 and
New York
on 2020

I need
to see
something
come up
from the
ground instead
of the
other way
around

Two Poems by Matt Borczon

Posted in Matt Borczon on January 30, 2018 by Scot

Harry Houdini

once escaped
from the
belly of
an octopus
he was
the first
to fly
a plane
over Australia
and would
escape from
any box
or strait jacket
hand cuffs
or cage
sight unseen

so when
I was
sixteen
shy and
unable to
fit in
too small
for football
and bullied
for my
long hair
and unpopular
taste in music
I carried
his biography
with me
daily like
a bible

proof you
could escape
anything
if you
really really
tried.

____________

Band reunion

I will
bring the
ghosts from
the last
war you guys
bring the
divorces
and grown
children
the lesbian
affairs and
Brent can
bring the
ashes of
his dead
ex wife
and we
can all
plug in
and play
knocking
on heavens
door and
mean it
like we
never could
at nineteen