Grace
In this dimly-lit attic,
you open a trunk,
unleash the Korean War.
With just a few
well-preserved objects,
you can step out of
your claustrophobic widowhood,
reclaim the glorious life
with the handsome man
smiling at you
from a Tokyo street.
There are letters.
Some postcards.
Two medals.
Even a rusty bayonet.
But the battle rages all around
these things.
Shots are fired
He’s hit.
And hit again.
Too late,
you close that lid down hard.
Memory is a sure way
of getting someone killed.
The victory of the only way out
Corpse dragged from the river,
a young woman who worked checkout
at the grocery store,
who was knocked up and abandoned
by some guy.
Maybe, at her age,
victories were just too hard to come by
but a jump from a bridge
would prove a triumph
even those who looked down on her
couldn’t deny.
In fact, most ignored her
but the current did not.
In her moment of greatest glory,
she got tangled around a rock,
backslapped by the waters.
Her mother stood outside the yellow tape,
disbelieving like some God-fearing confirmed atheist.
Her daughter would be back by sundown.
She had no doubt.
You have to admire the mother’s faith.
She was wrong on all accounts.
No daughter of hers could do such a thing.
But she did her best to identify the body
To the woman three stools down at Ricky’s tavern
Sorry Socrates
I’ve examined this life
to the point
where I wish I was someone else.
For the novelty’s sake.
What can I say?
I’m weary of being
this spelunker
scouring the dark caves
of myself,
shining light on rage here,
affection there,
dragging my good nature
to the surface,
trying to bury selfishness
where even I can’t find it.
“Who am I?”
seems no more relevant than
“Where did I last leave my car-keys.”
“Who are you?”
is of more interest.
So let’s swap psyches, stranger.
Or, better yet,
body fluids.
Sorry.
That’s not what I meant.
Did anyone ever tell you
you have beautiful eyes?
If you heard it from yourself,
that doesn’t count.
How to initiate new members
As an existing member,
recommend someone.
Make sure they understand
that they must vow
complete obedience
to our rules and regulations.
If comfortable
with their desire and
willingness to comply,
a trial period will ensue.
Should this prove successful,
full initiation will follow.
With commonality a goal,
as well as adherence to the cause,
they should not be surprised
if this means going
to war against some unnamed country
or driving off for an outing together
in the woods.
I, myself, started with
an ice-cream social
followed up by an assassination.
Truly joining is what matters.
The rest will follow.
An emergency somewhere
Sirens wailing,
an ambulance rips a hole in afternoon silence.
The ceramic horse on the mantel had a stroke.
The decanter on the kitchen table was assaulted.
You’re clutching your stomach.
I press my hands to my head.
But the ambulance passes by,
the sound fades in the distance.
There’s no emergency
in what we have.
Just contentment,
as always.
More living than there are dead
In St. Anne’s Cemetery, leaves whisper.
Willow wind nudges in on their conversation,
Frog are supposed to speak, of course,
but here, their croaks are mellow adjuncts
to the low-key chatter around them,
as are the songs of sparrows and finches,
and the red squirrel and chipmunk chirp.
I bring flowers to the grave of a loved one.
Hard to believe that this is
a difficult time for me.