Kevin Bertolero
On Reed Street
for Ron Schreiber
Not now, listen to the
plovers in the dunes
where fifty years ago
the boys were fucking.
How many summers
did you spend in Truro?
Walking the same route
now, I seem to know it
& back in Cambridge
on the street I can hear
them —someone
is calling my name
Kevin Bertolero reads “On Reed Street”
Geneva
After the wedding
we sit on the shore
by the pitch pines
blown soft in the wind.
Seneca Lake
sits motionless,
almost midnight.
Almost like being
lost at sea? you ask
—all I can hear
in the dark
Kevin Bertolero reads “Geneva”
Kevin Bertolero is the founding editor of Ghost City Press. He earned his MFA at New England College and his poems have appeared in Olney Mag, Fourteen Poems, Post Road, The Comstock Review, Malasaña, and elsewhere. He lives in Portland, ME.