CONFESSION

He comes into the Macdonalds
wearing a three piece Armani
suit and carrying a black attaché case.

We see him check his watch
(it looks expensive),
glance peevishly at the harried mother
herding three pre-schoolers
to the seat next to his
where he sits eating
his Egg Macmuffin and scanning
the Wall Street Journal,
and, when it beeps,
snap open his cell phone
and say half a dozen words
to the caller.

We watch him take another
quick swallow of coffee
then scuttle out the door
to his gleaming silver
BMW and place the case and cup
on the roof, bend over to retrieve
something that has fallen
to the ground, get in,
close the door, back up
and glide away.
The last we see of him
and the BMW
the case and cup are still sitting
in their place on the roof.

I’m ashamed to say
we fervently hope
they both stay there
till he hits the Interstate.

GENESIS 1:1

In the beginning . . .

it says which confused me
because my mother said
God always was
and always will be

that’s what eternity means
which didn’t make sense
because how could there
be something that

didn’t have a beginning
or an end and it sometimes
kept me awake
trying to figure

it out because if my mother
said so it had to be true
she never lied to me
except for Santa Claus

which she explained
really wasn’t a lie
just a way of playing
Let’s Pretend just for fun

FIRST DEATH

When I was four, Spotty,
our almost beagle,
had the misfortune to wander
down to the Oberholtzer farm
where their dog, a misnamed
monster they called Beauty,
savaged him.
He’s barely alive, my brother said
at the supper table.
My father said I guess we’ll
need to . . . um . . .
take care of him.
I want to help I said
You can’t my brother said.
Let him at least go see him
my mother said.
There were big red holes
all over Spotty who stood
shivering in the barn
and looked at me
the way he looked when
he did something bad.
You better go in now
my father said.
Why do you have the ax?
I said.

ARREST

"Look at the birds of the air." -- Matthew 6:26

Eight miles on the Tuscarora Trail
in elegant October
the hickories an occasional
canopy of gold

I plog along
left knee aching from
careless wrenching on ancient
limestone slabs on the ridge
where two counties drop away
on either side

Hawks and vultures glide
overhead silent as stones

Then in a tangle of vines
and scrub oak
there is dart and twit

I stop

I am accosted
accused
cursed mercilessly
by a bird half the size
of my fist

Wren