The Sunday Poem: Sari Krosinsky... A bus ride with G-d

A rainy day, a bus, a stranger who crosses himself at every corner...this wonderful rumination is full of surprising insights.

Sari Krosinsky received an M.A. in creative writing from the University of New Mexico. Her poems have appeared in the American Poetry Journal, Arsenic Lobster, Pebble Lake Review, Poetica, Verse Daily and others. She edits Fickle Muses, an online journal of mythic poetry and fiction.


A bus ride with G-d

The bus kicks in with a grunt. At the corner,
tweed jacket two seats ahead crosses himself.
Next stop light, repeats. What prayers
he murmurs, I can’t see. Are you listening?

If you’re everywhere, you’re here. A pothole slams
you against my thigh, against the tendon you tore
in another story. Rain beats against the windows,
floods the gutters, and us with this aluminum box

for an ark. If you meant to assure us, why the bow,
why the crude arc of weapon like a threat across the sky?
Tweed knows how to take your promises: this offer valid
through the next intersection. Crossing the river

to the job I hate, to the boss who knows manners
like I know Latin, there’s something yet worth saving.
Back home, my lover sleeps between the cats.
Before leaving, I kissed his ear and he woke smiling.

--Sari Krosinsky


Submissions to The Sunday Poem are welcome. Send one or two poems with a short bio, any links, and a picture to theditchrider@gmail.com.

Views: 12

Tags: Krosinsky, poems

Comment by JMG on April 5, 2009 at 6:33pm
Very nice.
Comment by touristamateur on April 6, 2009 at 7:35am
"Crossing the river to the job I hate, to the boss who knows manners
like I know Latin, there’s something yet worth saving."


Nice work.
Comment by bg on April 6, 2009 at 1:50pm
What a lovely addition to the DCF!

Thank you.
Comment by Ben Moffett on April 6, 2009 at 6:53pm
A todo maquina! Enjoyable. The driver was obviously a double crosser, common in New Mexico, especially when one shoots free throws at the big annual March hoop-la at the Pit featuring St. Mike's or St. Pius against dreaded Hope Baptist. But thou got across without furthering thigh trauma. Was that the Barelas Bridge or one of the mid-or-upper class spans just upstream?
Comment by Margaret Randall on April 7, 2009 at 5:51am
Terrific poem! Thanks. Captures those small moments that so often pass unnoticed (except by poets!) and that explain everything.
Comment by JeSais on April 7, 2009 at 8:49pm
nice
Comment by Randy Moffitt on April 12, 2009 at 8:32pm
Beautiful!
Comment by Randy Moffitt on April 12, 2009 at 8:35pm
Hey Sari, Fabulous. Randy and I read together--perhaps you've started something. I particularly like "Tweed: . . . this offer valid through the next intersection." Always a pleasure. Merimee
Comment by Rich Boucher on May 9, 2009 at 3:28pm
Very nice indeed.

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