First Apartment Near St. Mary’s T Stop

By BRETT FOSTER

I recollect at last those first few weeks
on Beacon Street: broke newlyweds, we hid
our finite riches in a little room,
a basement studio whose cost seemed gruesome.
Fresh from Corpus Christi, you learned to speak
a northern language, talk of “quarters” wide-
mouthed like a Chowdahead’s wicked idiom.

That strangeness resonates as echoed heirloom.
November then alive with many things,
we bundled up, explored the neighborhood.
The couple at the Busy Bee would bring
their frenzied fighting there, and Chinese food—
just half a block away! Some days we stood
at our door to mark the room’s great reckoning.

First Apartment Near St. Mary’s T Stop

Related Posts

Pine tree at sunset

July on South St. (AEAE)

NICK MAIONE
I open the doors and windows and shut off the lights./ For a while I play tunes on the fiddle / shirtless in my dark house. I love doing this. / For the first time all day I am not at home. / For the first time since the last time / my body is the same size as my flesh.

On Halloween

VASYL LOZYNSKY
I feel greedy, I have a frog in my throat because of this / expensive beer. I start to ask around, like a detective, / and immediately get some info / from the writer sitting at our table nearby, / whom I got to know just now. / The house of Ashbery has likely mahogany doors...

Opaletk wafer intricately depicting Mary and Jesus

Opłatek

JANNETT MATUSIAK
My mother breaks the card-sized wafer embossed with the nativity into fragments and wedges one into my father’s still hand, placing it on his chest. We each take our own piece to offer and receive from each other. My father’s voice is at a whisper as we all lean down to kiss his cheek.