J.K. Durick- Three Poems

                    Much Ado

 

Sometimes small things dress themselves up

Like formal wear at a children’s party, or

A waltz gown and tux in church

Sometimes the simplest act looms large when

Dissected examined and discussed

The slightest of slights becomes epic, turns terrible
In the retelling, when the retelling takes hold
Is retold and retold

Sometimes the tiniest things make waves

In the bathtub of the day, the teacup of the moment

Sometimes minutes become weighty when each second
Is watched too closely

Sometimes the mouse is too large for the trap

The dirt too much for the broom

The light bulb too dim for the dark

The frame more interesting than the picture

Sometimes too little becomes more than too much

Fills mornings and evenings, fills afternoons and pages

Pages of one syllable at a time.

                       Innocence

 

Usually leaves over time, a bit here, a bit there.

There’s Santa, of course, he usually goes early on,

An indicator of things to come.

 

And then there’s the first time our parents fail us,

Like our own Adam and Eve, we all leave the garden

Of childhood behind.

 

Then it becomes a matter of discovery, a puzzling mix

Of learning and loss. Certainty departs, vagueness and

Shades of meaning persist.

 

We discover our double selves, become performers in

A play we hide behind, think one thing, say another,

Do things, without being caught.

 

We discover our sexual selves, our needy selves, our

Greedy selves, the drunkard, glutton, petty thief. We

Change the subject, then hide the evidence.

 

We get good at it all, and begin to call it our lives. We

Accept things as they are, except sometimes when we

Become nostalgic for what we lost by just living.

                                       News

 

I know what happens out there, read about it and watch it at times

On TV. There are floods and famine. There’s poverty and pollution;

Population and political expediencies. There are bombings and ballot

Issues.  There’s hunger and hurry. Insincerity and insecurity and insanity.

There are movements and militants and mutinies. There are leaks and

And losing sides. There are tyrants and tired old excuses. There’s sorrow

And suspects. There are earmarks and earthquakes and ethical questions.

There are victims and victories.. There are causes and conditions and

Conclusions. There’s yelling and yearning. There are negotiations and

Near misses. There are quandaries and quacks. There’s gore and there’s glory.

There’s horror and there are heroes. There’s killing and there’s kindness.

I know what happens out there. There are things to remember. There are

Things to forget. There are things to be proud of, and many things to regret.