Back to Issue 11

Paul Hostovsky

Beautiful Pulses

says the nurse practitioner
to the morbidly obese man
slouching in his wheelchair,
the cascading flesh-fall of fat
pooling at his kneecaps,
his naked left foot
cradled in her hands, her slender
fingers palpating
next to the extensor tendon
of his big toe
and also the inner side
of his ankle. Thank you,
he says, blushing,
the blood doing tumble turns
like an Olympic swimmer
pushing off the tips of his ears,
splashing down at the beautiful
pulses of his feet, reaching for the wall
of his mortified, flattered heart.

Late for the Gratitude Meeting

​The guy in front of me in traffic
is letting everyone in,
waving at the cars like a policeman
or a pope--
and I really have no patience for all
the indulgence
and magnanimity at my expense
 
because I’m late for the gratitude meeting,
which is only an hour long.
And if I miss the first ten minutes
of silent meditation I’m going to scream,
because it’s my favorite part and because
it helps me remember to breathe.
And I’m going to throttle this guy
 
if he doesn’t stop deferring
to all of the trundling humanity
turning left onto Main
at this intersection where I’m fuming,
not feeling the love,
not feeling the gratitude,
feeling only resentment and disdain
 
because I have the right of way.
Would you rather be right
or have peace? Let go, I can hear them say
at the gratitude meeting three blocks away,
striking the rim of the Tibetan singing bowl,
which begins vibrating,
and keeps on vibrating,
like this steering wheel I can’t stop clenching.
 
 
 

Paul Hostovsky's ninth book of poems, Is That What That Is, was published in 2017 by FutureCycle Press. He has won a Pushcart Prize, two Best of the Net awards, and has been featured on Poetry Daily, Verse Daily, and The Writer's Almanac. He makes his living in Boston as a sign language interpreter. To read more of his work, visit www.paulhostovsky.com
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