Turn Around

Peter Munro

Let me repent my god and die.
Without a woman I am not.
I offered everything. It bought
me nothing. In the church of thigh

and idyll, she strips. But her sighs
betray the worship I have sought.
Let me repent my gods and die.
Without a woman I am not

nothing yet my praise seems a lie,
empty as wind in a chime, caught
briefly in sound like a blood clot
snags on what a spirit denies.
Let me repent, O Lord, and die.


Peter Munro is a fisheries scientist who works in the Bering Sea, the Gulf of Alaska, the Aleutian Islands and Seattle. Munro’s poems have been published or are forthcoming in Poetry, the Beloit Poetry Journal, the Iowa Review, the Birmingham Poetry Review, Passages North, The Cortland Review, The Valparaiso Poetry Review, Compose, Rattle, Toe Good Poetry and elsewhere.

Comments

  1. Denise Rogers says:

    Thank you, Peter. I enjoyed that. How does this section fit into the longer poem? How much longer is the poem? What is it’s overarching theme?

  2. Kevin Porter says:

    I like this very much. Thank you.

  3. David Bankson says:

    Is it fair to post a poem to concis that’s not the full poem?

    • I’m not quite sure where fairness comes into play. We considered Peter’s poem on its own and it worked for us…for all I know, half the poems we publish are, or could become, parts of something larger!

  4. Jeffrey Kahrs says:

    Wonderful poem Peter. Love the halting lines. The painful sludge of your life slows but cannot still the rage, the seeking. And so very honest. Good work. Keep it up.

  5. The pathos here is undeniable, Peter. What I wonder about is your own personal myth and how to get from the pleading stage to a more healthy place. So little poetry gets into the personal myth of the poet and since we’re friends, I have a little of the back story behind the poem. My prayer for you is that you are not dependent on this dynamic for your continued evolution as a poet and use the art and practice of poetry to find a way out of this predicament into the healthy, thriving self that is your birthright. Happy Solstice.

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