Two Poems

Sermon

Strange confessions
these
Thou shalt not/Do unto others
brethren make:
They hide their sins
in bureau drawers
before making that pious climb
to the narthex.
Masked humans,
gazing about with darting eyes.

From my nearby desert garden
I watch the lip-servers
enter the church
on Royal Road—
            God’s army
            crusaders on white horses
            lives measured in financial portfolios.

“What a delightful sermon” a woman wails
to the pastor.

Bells
   Bells
     Bells
They flood down the steps,
pocketing their masks
as they escape back
into pleasure’s womb.
I recognize them as they glance
at my garden.
Beep, beep, beep.
“Nice weeds. How much they all worth?”

They continue to stream by my cacti,
not beholding the flowers
embedded in thorns.

“What a delightful sermon,” I say to myself.

 

Games

 

Silently.

I gazed

upon the Vietnamese children

engrossed

in their make-belief sticks

and mud contest,

vowing never to let

an American care package

corrupt

their secret little game.

 

—Gerald D. Bahr, Menomonie, WI

 

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