Prophecy
I’ve written wisdom’s prophecy,
On a white-washed wall,
Outside the Citizens Bureau,
But no one bothers to read it.
They’re too busy with the comings
And goings of the new regime—
Spick and span, as usual—
Until the bottom drops out.
What a racket, I tell you.
Yet not a soul appears alarmed,
Or even ready to challenge
What fate has in store.
C’est comme ca, like they say.
Can’t really blame them.
Wish I wasn’t wound so tightly,
Dispensing these words of mine,
At such a rapid rate.
Perhaps, I should slow down,
Lest I babble my message away.
Still, fair warning need prevail.
Mere mockery is not enough.
These goons will steal your identity—
Before you know it’s gone.
~
Why I Don’t Dance
The entire process scares me.
Makes my knees buckle.
And that’s not half of it.
Surely, it’s fear unleashed.
Another soul in my space—
The mere unpardonable notion
I may need to be touched.
Yet I know one foot from another,
So it’s not a directional issue,
As far as I can tell.
I guess, offered enough booze,
And, possibly, a narcotic or two—
Under the proper circumstance—
I could give it a go, of course,
If it means that much to you.
But, please, don’t expect miracles.
Just allow me a few moments
To catch the breath I’m owed.
Watch you engage the floor.
Follow you step by step.
______
Bart Edelman’s poetry collections include Crossing the Hackensack, Under Damaris’ Dress, The Alphabet of Love, The Gentle Man, The Last Mojito, The Geographer’s Wife, Whistling to Trick the Wind, and This Body Is Never at Rest: New and Selected Poems 1993 – 2023. His work has been anthologized in textbooks published by City Lights Books, Harcourt Brace, and Prentice Hall. He lives in Pasadena, California.