Poem 115 ± September 27, 2015

Peter LaBerge

Field Sermon: On Abstinence

The boy doesn’t care
about Portland anymore.
About what Elvis would say
to that. Today is all about
the bees. It hasn’t been this way
since his lips met a bee
in a beer can the summer
before seventh grade. He believes
Jesus made him, hopes
he will be stung in the mirror.

Field Sermon: Walnut Creek

Quiet, the toaster. Quiet, the scalloped
flesh. Saints wander the boy’s head
like men lost in hallways, like children
watching mothers mop mornings
into nightgowns spread wide across
concrete floors. Scarecrows in the shed
long-bleached and convinced they are still
the men they pretended to be. The boy
pieces together remnants of the broken
weathervane, foreclosed farm. His body
white as a fox underbelly, a consolation or prayer.

Peter LaBergePeter LaBerge is the author of the chapbook Hook (Sibling Rivalry, 2015). His poems have appeared in Beloit Poetry Journal, Redivider, Sixth Finch, Best New Poets 2014, Hayden’s Ferry Review, DIAGRAM, and Indiana Review, as a finalist for the 2015 Indiana Review Poetry Prize. The recipient of a fellowship from the Bucknell University Stadler Center for Poetry, Peter is the co-editor of Poets on Growth (Math Paper Press, 2015), the Founder & Editor-in-Chief of The Adroit Journal, and an undergraduate student at the University of Pennsylvania. Find him online at www.peterlaberge.com.

These poems appear in the forthcoming chapbook, Hook.