perhappened mag
issue 16: SWEET
i'm sorry but
i can't pay
for any of this
JEFFREY HERMANN
I don’t believe in capitalism
so I can’t write you a check.
I can write you something
that looks like a check.
My heart hurts a little
for dented cans.
I bought these peaches
to give them a second chance.
We’re entitled as humans
to one cake or one roast
sliding off the plate
and onto the floor.
The truly starving
will forgive you.
I’m sorry my sorry
is worthless,
like being too wealthy.
They say there’s so much
small-scale pain in the world
we can never really imagine it
no matter how hard we try.
They say to try hard.
Progress seems slow
because we read
technology magazines.
I switched to cookbooks
and now my oven
is always warming.
A batch of cobblers
is called an absolution.
so I can’t write you a check.
I can write you something
that looks like a check.
My heart hurts a little
for dented cans.
I bought these peaches
to give them a second chance.
We’re entitled as humans
to one cake or one roast
sliding off the plate
and onto the floor.
The truly starving
will forgive you.
I’m sorry my sorry
is worthless,
like being too wealthy.
They say there’s so much
small-scale pain in the world
we can never really imagine it
no matter how hard we try.
They say to try hard.
Progress seems slow
because we read
technology magazines.
I switched to cookbooks
and now my oven
is always warming.
A batch of cobblers
is called an absolution.
Jeffrey Hermann’s poetry and prose has appeared in Hobart, Palette Poetry, UCity Review, trampset, JMWW, and other publications. Though less publicized, he finds his work as a father and husband to be rewarding beyond measure.