David R. Surette
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David R. Surette's new book is EASY TO KEEP, HARD TO KEEP IN . Koenisha published his first YOUNG GENTLEMEN’S SCHOOL in 2004. Surette’s poems have been published in literary journals such as Peregrine and Salamander and appear in the anthologies French Connections: A Gathering of Franco-American Poets (Louisiana Literature Press); Cadence of Hooves: A Celebration of Horses! (Yarrow Mountain Press); and Look! Up In The Sky! - An Anthology of Comic Book Poetry (Sacred Fools Press). Surette attended this year’s Bread Loaf Writing Conference. He also co-host Poetribe, a poetry series in East Bridgewater, Massachusetts.

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HOCKEY
                        How the worn jersey of time unravels
                                                         ~Thomas O'Grady

My brother lies on a gurney
in the catacombs of the Boston Arena,
a lightening bolt gash over his right eye.
A medical student with an accent stands over him,
an open medical book,
How to Suture.  He tugs the needle and thread through
Steve’s skin, no anesthesia, no complaints,
except “Hurry, I don’t want to miss the whole period.”

A Somerville High fan
unhappy at the goals I scored
against them last time, calls the rink
to tell my coach that my parents
are dead - a car accident on the way to the game -
because who would play then?
It was a lie exposed by the sight of my parents already in their seats,
my dad watching warm-ups, checking the goalie’s weaknesses,
my mother wishing we played a gentler game.

I drag my son from his bed at 6 am,
knowing I can have him in his gear
before he’s awake enough to protest,
believing when he slides that puck
under the prone goalie it will be enough,
a promise life can’t take back.
He quit when he got the chance.

VIRGINS

Jim and I visited the dying girl.
My first time in a girl’s bedroom.

She sat on the edge
of her bed, a scarf on her head,

talking to us like boys in her room
were no big deal. Jim knew her

from before and talked easily. She
was part of the mystery that kept me up

at night since seventh grade. But here I was, in her bedroom,
talking to her with all the self-righteousness

and advantage of a boy
doing the right thing. 

I ran out of stuff to say and spent
a lot of the time staring at the Savoy Brown record

leaning at the front of a stack
of albums I wanted to touch. 

It bothered me not knowing
what they sounded like. I was the guy

who bought Jethro Tull albums in Harvard Square as imports! 
We never talked about why

we were there.  We stayed until we felt good about ourselves.
I never went back. 

I never owned a Savoy Brown LP.
She made it to graduation.
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