5 Poems by Doug Mathewson

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5 Poems by Doug Mathewson

Crossing The Hudson 

After her father died, I’d take the pickup to Westchester every Sunday and bring her a carton of Camels. Only family was allowed in locked wards, but the staff thought we were still married. Holding hands in the Day Room we’d talk and laugh for hours. When time came to go, we would kiss each others eyes, it was our little custom.
Coming home I’d usually pull over to think, have a smoke, and watch the Hudson for awhile. Funny how things work out, you know. She’ll still be locked in the Mental Hospital, and I’ll still be in love.


Got back around dark.
You were sad, and
hadn’t got out of bed all day.
There wasn’t much in the house.
I lit a candle.
We had hummus on crackers,
and lay close.
The little flame warmed us.
We will be alright.

About the light

something about the light
that only happens in Paris.
photo today’s front page

neighborhood street scene
two women kissing,
their marriage now confirmed.

they are young, they are French
their attire non-descript,
but for simple matching veils.

background crowded,
faces seem unchanged
generations from VE day.

wet and dense the air
saturated colors shimmer.
magic still, the light of Paris.


Your sister and her friends were so drunk and loud,
we were all told to leave the Karaoke bar.
Adamantly you insisting on doing one song before we left,
and sang “What’s New Pussy Cat” from the small and shabby stage.
You were horrible, and I never loved you more

Station to Station 

On the sidewalk,
by the pay-phone,
someone dropped
a thousand peso
Golden Garcia
and I used it to call you.

That must have been
Connecting me
and Mexico City
with you
and Oklahoma City.

But there was only
your machine.
You visit your Mother
on Sundays,
since she got sick.
I felt so foolish
not remembering.

Suddenly unsure
of what to say.
I didn’t leave
a message.

Senior Momentum

So deal with my undergarments and pull up my pants.
Tuck in my shirt tails and do the button.
Fiddle with my belt and I’m done.
That’s enough, I’ve lost interest.
The zipper can be for another day.

This is article about :5 Poems by Doug Mathewson

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