Poem of the Week

In Praise of Solitude

Sometime this morning I lifted myself off the sagging bed in a chilled apartment above a bar in Saginaw. I can almost see my breath as I stare into a weak cup of black coffee, thinking how I fulfilled my father’s prophecy that I’d screw up a free lunch. My neighbor plays his television 24/7 and the news program that blares now reminds me of how little myself or anyone has learned. I flipped open a notebook an hour ago to face the confrontation of empty pages. I’m staying in today. Winter’s teeth have sharpened and there are no jobs here. A blind man taps his cane on the sidewalk out front. He’s too early: the bar won’t open for another hour.

By Bruce Gunther

Biography : Bruce Gunther is a former journalist and poet who lives in Michigan. He's a graduate of Central Michigan University. His poetry has been published in The Dunes Review, the Loch Raven Review, Modern Haiku, Still Life, and Sledgehammer Lit, among others.

Photo Courtsey : Sam Ebsersole