Two Poems by Samuel Strathman




An erratic mess

winds up

at the wrong person’s

funeral, stays to pay

his respects.


After the ceremony,

he cannot find

his motorcycle

even with the tracker

connected to his phone.




Neighbours find him

facedown in their pool,

naked underneath

his spacesuit,

revive him so he

can travel to work.


Later, the flake

skips a meeting

to video chat

with his girlfriend,

scores points

with her family

during a debate

on tanning salons.


He re-enters

the boardroom

brimming with exuberance,

but the room is vacant.




He visits his aunt

and uncle during bingo.


“Does he know

what day it is?”

cries his aunt,

combs her lips

in bewilderment.


The disloyal nephew

has graduated

to man-child.


As the nurses

escort the seniors

to their rooms,

the uncle asks

his kinsman when

he’ll return.


The flake laughs,

slaps his knee

all the way

to his car.


Left the headlights on!


He enters his vehicle,

turns the key

in the ignition,

hears the engine purr.




The meshuggener

arrives home

to an empty fridge.


He goes downstairs

to the cellar,

brings the dead dog’s

old food to the kitchen

for a midnight feast.


He opens a can,

eats with his fingers,

forgets how the weeks

come and go.




 Beneath the Horizon


Jade haze from the trees

extinguished by the glimmer

of the aurora.


Amidst the verdure below,

ocean gyres rock steady

against boats tied

to the dock,

surf scrolling

and crimping

at the shoreline.


Waves flood my ears,

rumble of an avalanche

overtaking ski slopes

from a distance.




Samuel Strathman is a poet, author, educator, and the founder/editor-in-chief of Floodlight Editions.  His second chapbook, “The Incubus” was published by Roaring Junior Press (2020).




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