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
