Poems by Terry Savoie

At an Eye Surgeon’s Office, We Meet a Modern-Day Millerite

My wife and I listen politely              as a gentleman farmer
sitting close by in the eye surgeon’s office                persists in trying
to convince us,                        in no uncompromising terms, that a promised

“end times” is, indeed, right now upon us.     Yet, I wonder
(silently/patiently) has he torn off the roof                 of his farmhouse
or livestock barn                     so his wife & three children with the few

remaining hogs he has left                  might ascend heavenward in-
to Joy Everlasting without any obstruction?                          Thank God!
we console each other on our way home.       But we hold

back further comments           until we’re well on our way into
more friendly territory                        as the wind buffets us wildly
on the interstate.         Don’t laugh, we whisper, Don’t dare…

 

Two Fragments

#1

Bucephalus     balks, shies,

rears, refuses               to be broken,

fearing             his                               shadow

Alexander turns                      Bucephalus about

to face dead-on his fear,          the Sun,

sliding that shadow    

behind

& no longer riding                  before him

#2.

Bucephalus,                pridefully bridled,                  

his shadow now

behind,            braces

to lift                           Alexander

in order to conquer     the East

                        to the very                   rising               of the Sun

after Emile Chartier ("Alain") 1922