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Yvonne Amey

Bogie, Par, Bogie, Par, Sand Trap Sonnet

If you are caught in a storm and are afraid of lightning hold up a 1 iron. Even God can’t hit a 1 iron. – Lee Trevino

Then there’s the grey bobcat gliding.

A haven of ryegrass.

I remember that.

Next to the clouds we swung under sat Disney.

Then there’s winter which actually performs like summer in Florida.

Then there’s morning’s ghost of breath bouncing around our faces.

Then there’s Jason in his collared shirt

& felony strangulations charges.

In every family lurks gator & crane.

Golf is an expensive hobby.

Crack is an even more hefty habit.

Then there’s the sunset at hole 18.

Its quinacridone reds.

For an hour it looked like the sky was giving birth.


Barbara-Jean Liar

said I wish I hadn’t spent so much $ on street drugs & more on golf lessons

said driving balls at the range is like smoking crack, you can’t hit just one

said she saw our drug dealer in a Chrysler mini van

said she saw the Avon lady smack a kid

said she wore another stripper’s thong

said parking in handicap spaces with perfectly good ankles is not illegal

said slapping “eating animals” stickers on stop signs is perfectly legal

said I have nothing to do under the hot flap of the beach umbrella

said it’s not gauche to wear flip flops to synagogue, Jesus wore them there too

said the moon looks like a big idiot in the sky

said her vagina is a trumpet of color

said a lot of “political” jumbo over the years

said her favorite season is watermelon

said when she recalls her mother she thinks of the horror flick

When a Stanger Calls

said what she enjoyed most about my poem was the sweater I wore while reading it


The Prompt Was to Write A List Poem about Golf, Jesus, & Traffic

I believe in church basements and the grace

of tumbling down a flight of stairs.

I believe in golf and tee times,

in grief and green’s fees.

I believe in reading glasses

and the choke of memory.

I believe traffic is lonely and desperate to get home.

I believe the Kurtz family visits my dreams

every night to “get something off their chest.”

I believe in coughs and coffins.

I believe in God and Taco Bell.

I believe in 1-Star Google Reviews and golf carts.

I believe in the distance a ball travels through the air.

I believe autumn leaves don’t fall; they are pushed.

I believe in Zoyza grass and putting greens,

in PETA & 8 hours of sleep.

I believe anyone can learn to love anyone given the right conditions.

I believe that rain is God coughing.

I believe in Jesus and in people who don’t believe in Jesus.

I believe in the power of the golf swing and ghosts.

I believe in the power of cake frosting.

I believe life is blood to bone to wastebasket.

I believe the world needs an instruction manual.

I believe you can miss someone who is sitting in the same room with you.


Yvonne Amey is a poet from the South. Her poems have appeared in Rattle, Tin House, and elsewhere. She holds an MLFA in poetry from University of Central Florida.


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