Three Poems From Stephen J. Golds

Close To The Bone, Noir, Poetry, Punk Noir Magazine, Stephen J. Golds

Mr Golds

The way the blood feels on my fingers

I forget how long

It’s been sometimes, Darling.


The last time

I saw you

you fled into an empty night

screaming at me you were going to throw yourself

from the top of an apartment building.

We had both laughed but

our laughs were different then,

weren’t they, Darling?


The time we argued,

I can’t remember what about now,

you gave yourself to the traffic

and I’d gone after you,

the horns blaring and

the lights screaming,

flashes in the night.

Following you into that damp darkness, Darling.


And yes, there were all the times

you shared yourself with others,

and smiled with lips like Babylon.

Little deceits grown grotesque.

And I took you


I always took you

back, Darling.


I remember the way your hair

felt underneath my fingertips,

but tonight I’m running

my fingers over

these ripened tight scars

that you left behind when you left here.

Jagged glass lovers,

That we were, Darling.


You were married when I met you,

I was married when I met you.

We both lied together


we lay together.

But things have a habit of ending

the way they started

don’t they, Darling?


I forget how long

It’s been sometimes.


The coffee doesn’t taste the way it did

The mug has a chip on its lip

and the music that flows from the old speakers

leaks stilted down the wood paneled walls.


The black and white

photographs are still hanging there

but I sit here alone now.


I heard you’d got engaged.

I drink from the mug,

the tip of my tongue

touches the rough porcelain.


The coffee doesn’t taste the way it did.

I’ll stand up, unknown, uninvited and unloved.

I’ll pay and I’ll leave.

I’ll not come back here again


A cold Sunday


I sit in darkness and I wonder,

Where has all of the poetry gone?

Or was it ever here?


Am I the aging pug,

punch drunk, punched out, out punched,

gassed and tired already?


Already thirty six and on the abyss

of a meaningless divorce and the

meaningless unemployment line.

The poetry beaten out of me, like

a heart I’d never really had

in me.


I wait for the sound of a bell

to mark the end of the round,

but it never comes

there’s only the night

and the cold


this waiting.

on the ropes always.


Stephen J. Golds was born in the U.K, but has lived in Japan for most of his adult life. He enjoys spending time with his daughters, reading books, traveling, boxing and listening to old Soul LPs. Glamour Girl Gone, his debut novel, will be released by Close to The Bone Press  on January 29th, 2021