DEATH IN THE DESERT
Heat waves frolic along the desert’s endless edge
I hear the shuffling of camel’s toes
The soft landing of camel dung
The smell adding to my woes
My knees embedded in sand
Awaiting the wrath of the Queen of Hearts
The bald ibis watches from his rocky perch
I glimmer a glint of silver through shrouded eyes
To the camels and ibis it’s no surprise
They’ve seen many times how a man dies
Heat waves frolic along the desert’s endless edge
Having no power to stop their play
On a whim of the wind they hold their place
The camel and Ibis are rarely seen
Betwixt the sand and the dust devil’s space
The wind has no say as to what happens next
When frolicking ends and attention is paid
A man with no head leaves them perplexed
To the camel and ibis it’s no surprise
They’ve seen many times how a man dies
NEWTOWN SCHOOL BUS DRIVER’S LAMENT
My yellow bus
My Yellow bus
Kept them safe enough
But when they left my yellow bus
They didn’t know how safe they were
They had no time to pray
I tied their laces, I brushed their hair
I wiped their runny noses
Today I drive the same sad streets
And when I glance up to the mirror
Or run the tape from before the end of time
I see a rose on every seat
And stop to let the others on.
TITANIUM BREAKFAST
I saw a soldier with titanium legs
Walk unaided into a dining room
With fork and knife back in place
My hands covered my quivering face
Opposite me sat a military mom
Her son deployed in Afghanistan
Only God knows what passed through her mind
When the gallant warrior began to dine.
PATRIOT’S DAY BOSTON 2013
No union jacks bobbed in the bay
No red coats marshaled on the quay
U.S.S. Constitution gently swayed at its mooring.
Gun ports closed, sails furled
The silversmith too lay undisturbed
When the spirit of seventy-six awakened his soul.
The enemy is here, he treads among us
You must ride, you must ride, implored the fife and drum
To warn your old towners to stray from their course
Out of the old granary burial ground hoofs from the past
Arose to the task. But a mile to ride was a mile too far.
When the sound of the blast ended his task
He reigned in his horse and wept.
Michael Glassman is a former high school teacher who has been writing poetry, fiction and non-fiction pieces as well as two ten minute plays. He has been published in the Chronogram magazine, Karpeles, and online in Bright Sleep, Voices From Here, and Foliate.