Benjamin Roque Poems

The cremation was premature,
Bischoff admits when apart from the parade
that rounds the corner of another Sunday—
Cuts urban air into diamonds.
...

A vice-grip twists off the silver band
of a mason jar
to release the final breath of the deceased
composer's only symphony.
...

Eyes open like snapped piano wire.

Condensation upon shellbark tables,
now milk-white, is dry.
...