DM
153
Ed Ahern
Cinq Poesies
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Completed Pass
I renounced pro football.
My one-sided affection for
fifty-three sweaty strangers
meant lost half-weekends
and addiction to talking heads.
Chasing a testosterone spoor
clotted me into a yelling mob
of men seeking ersatz glory.
Better to play the game, any game,
than howl from a bleacher.
I threw them off the flat screen,
made amends to the family,
ignored their baited mention,
saved money on garish jerseys
and found life after fandom.
Don’t look back
I don’t look back
at what I can no longer do-
the marathons completed,
the snake-strike rejoinders,
the sleep donated to work,
the effort wasted on status.
I have perhaps another decade
grasping at less and nearer,
moving more slowly after
residual desire and reduced need,
discerning through reading glasses
an image of shriveled ego
Corona Malaise
Staring at myself
In enforced isolation
I’m not who I want.
Are we saved yet?
Pummeling a skin tabor face
Violating sinners as they atone
Tithing by coercion and promise
Picking at shames so they can fester
Shrilling curses from ordained throats
Breaking spirits in rhythm with chants
What redemptive bliss in saving others
The Minimalist*
I know a minimal man
who spurns my smart devices
and lives without television,
ignorant of electronic ephemera
deflating from urgent to forgotten
within a week.
I wonder, between bombardments
if he isn’t the one better able
to appreciate his context.
Is it too late for me?
*For Tom
Ed Ahern resumed writing after forty odd years in foreign intelligence and international sales. He’s had over three hundred stories and poems published so far, and six books. Ed works the other side of writing at Bewildering Stories, where he sits on the review board and manages a posse of nine review editors.
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