BY THIS AUTHOR
Grand Profession
“but now alas,
All measure, and all language, I should pass,
Should I tell what a miracle she was”
June
We arranged the chess pieces
on a silver serving tray
as a mingled array of white and black
for corresponding squares - so that,
despite my efforts, the Queen could not attack...
Tele Communiqué
This tiny silver telephone,
continuously stared at me from my desk,
and challenged me,
to struggle through demands physically distorting and grotesque.
The violent, hostile inanimate provoker
charged me beyond my rational protest,
even pleaded with blue blinking lights,
explaining that with swift play of my fingers I could attest,
and even pierce the convictions that ‘til now have perpetually left
me,
still-born in my bed, motionless, abject.
…
The sun had reached a long haul toward the horizon,
when I finally and sternly grasped this tiny object,
dialled a number,
fell in love,
heard a continuous beep
then minute and a half of silence.
…
Now I converse only with riddles concerning the concept of regret.
By JPV
Copyright February 2006