Sample Poems by Peter G. Quinn

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Shaving Brush

His right hand
scarred by constant contact
with the sea

brush between
finger and thumb
battered the soap

into froth, spun
it deep into badger bristles
raised it to his chin

coated one day of stubble,
never more
shaving cream

from ear to ear.
“If I’m ever rich,”
he would say,

“I’ll drive a Lincoln Continental
And change my razor blade every day.”
Standing in boxer shorts, tank tee

sturdy, holding strong
his ritual brought calm. He looked
himself in the face each day,
made sure he was worthy.

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Sea Card

Each entry, each signature,
where you went,
when, which ship:

3rd mate, Chief, Captain.
Proof you existed,
before me,

before my time.
Proof of stories,
when dates and ships match.

Thirty-eight years ago
you told the last story.
Then you drowned,

left me
to piece the past together
without you.

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Chess Set

Before the golden bridge
pulled Sausalito into the
big city’s gravity,
they used ferries.

Grandpa John’s Echo,
moored in the bay, its
four masts stood off,
peered into her soul.

The chess set,
St. Jacques of London circa 1900,
traveled the ferry
in my grandfather’s pocket

hinged to half itself,
the push of
real ivory buttons
locked the pieces

held the game still.
Each day, he and Dad
played as the ferry
found the docks on

the other side,
sweating move
by each move.
One move, each way.

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Safety Glass
In memory of Mike Poole

You sat, bleacher straight,
yelled,

“Steady, steady, swing!”

as if I were your boy out there
who felt the fear of missing the ball
might let the team down,
strike out.

Your voice made it past the taunts

“Steady, steady, swing!”
Game after game.

Usually at sea, my father couldn’t
make it to the park.
You were my designated father.
The two of you worked it out.

“Steady, steady, swing!”

I swung more surely each week.
Wood bit leather more often
as I timed myself,
listened through false chants:

Hey batter, batter, swing!
followed only your cadence:

“Steady, steady, swing!”

The day I really got it,
when the ball, big and fat,
streaked down a pipe
straight at my bat,

I sent it over the fence
shattered your windshield.
It was the best home run
you’d ever seen.

You gave my father a crumble of
safety glass in a boxed frame.