What Sits in Front

2nd Place in the Poetry Writing Contest

Issue 17

what sits in front of me
is not the future that lies ahead.
its sleepiness, its restless shape
conceal a fullness, albeit dormant
at these moments.
why make a fuss about its stingy
tendrils, when a short puff of air
will suffice to keep its urgency
away from my cat-gut hands?
why move over, when that seat
has been taken by an old woman
whose days of preening are long over?
it is enough to check your beauty,
to take skin cleansers, facial ointments,
wrinkle cream and hold them
up to sharp light to see
if truth can crack the surface.
we will never answer those questions,
there are not enough question marks to
bring to a haunted conclusion or what
a string of ampersands ties into continuous
knots.  where are we? i ask. you are supposed
to know but i have lost faith in your alleged
wisdom.  the speech from the whirlwind has
become tedious but still frightening.  one can
only go so far before insolence ends,
the confined demoniacs freed, again, and
the last mile of exodus will yield to slaughter
in that which sits in front of you.

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Wayne Bornholdt is a retired bookseller who lives in West Michigan. Besides taking care of three Golden Retrievers, he plays tennis. He holds degrees in philosophy and religious studies. His poetry has been published in numerous reviews and journals.

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