Posted in Antarctica

Bequest

The director was retiring
after a long almost benign dictatorship
not before time murmured closed palms.
His had been an old-fashioned reign.
he was a man’s man
and to him this was a man’s place
It often wore the air of a fraternity house
the order was changing, this he knew, but his resistance did not.

Women had been a reluctant addition a few years prior
for summer only
permission with a smirk
good for decoration
and hunting.
Now career’s long flight was landing
to succession
or legacy ?

Two decades of insignificant worthiness
solid and unspectacular
a heavy volume
holding open the door
permitting memory to escape.
One last hand. Immortality trumps prejudice.

A quickly written paperback
light and enlightened
might turn bestseller and acclaimed film
The polar winter about to fall
a woman added to the cast
his name in sharp focus
leading the dress march of credits.

For the back story click Backstage

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Author:

Most of my life has been spent on the bench, occasionally called into the game by extravagance or attenuation. Waiting has turned a loner into a recorder - nondescript and inconsequential, more not noticed than overlooked - the non-vantage point of children not yet considered old enough to understand. Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry is a lifetime of picking anecdotes up and not throwing them away. Stories collected like odds and ends placed in a box in the basement, the garage, the garden shed - uncertain as to what their use might be but knowing that one day there might be one.

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