Steve Klepetar

My Mother Had Five Faces 

On feast days, she pulled one out
for carrying the celebration
food, kept another for snarling

in the kitchen, and there was one
for anger at the shops,
one for panic when the subway

stalled between stations, and a distant,
misty one to rub away her death dreams
when morning sun demolished clouds.

One sentence poems almost always make Steve Klepetar smile.