Michael Chitwood Poems

Hit Title Date Added
The Collection

Even two years later, she still gets correspondence
addressed to him. Correspondence. This like that.

Men Throwing Bricks

The one on the ground lofts two at a time
with just the right lift for them to finish
their rise as the one on the scaffold turns

Summer Job

At the end of the work day
you could tell exactly how far you had gotten
and how much farther you had to go.

Basement Barber

Here were said the words men say.
The oil stove winked its slit black eye;
it knew they did not have their way.

Dollar Bill

Small-town AM station,
morning show,
still doing a gospel number every hour.
Who's listening?

The Coffins

Two days into the flood
they appear, moored against
a roof eave or bobbing caught

Morning Walk, Holden Beach

Ghost moon in the upper right-hand corner
where we used to write our names—
Is it quiet there, Tom,
adrift from your drift of ashes?

Fixing It

The Happy Handyman's van
has just come down my street.

The Municipality

has given him a shirt
with his name on it.
Such is the way
of municipalities

The One Day

We were behind on the job
so waited out the rain in the pickup.
Because the backhoe would mire