Contraband

Do you play inside the Corn Flakes,

or are corn stalks more you game

 

Is that Hersey Bar the answer,

or the cocoa or cocaine

 

Do you clerk for someone’s feelings,

inspiration to be damned

 

Your legacy an afterthought

—another’s contraband

 

(Grantham New Hampshire: February, 2017)

My Crutch

I’ve written over a thousand Poems,

in search of just that one

 

Each word to slay the demon time,

each phrase my soul respun

 

I’ve come so close a hundred nights,

to see but not to touch

 

Then left to limp between the lines

—their failure now my crutch

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

The Encore

Are you now denied all access

Has your ticket long been punched

Is your fear stuck in the alley

Intermezzo—out to lunch

 

Will you ever see the picture

From the far end of the line

Would the curtain serve to raise your hopes

Can a loser ever shine

 

The doorman calls “It’s Showtime”

As the lights all start to dim

An usher shouts “There’s One Seat Left”

You madly rush within

 

With eyes that fight the darkness

You find that one last chair

And on the stage, hope kisses fear

—all encores yours to share

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)