Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry

A microphone and a roomful of people
terrifying to some
addictive to most,
intoxicating
such satisfaction,
one’s wit and wisdom drenching ears
which cannot interrupt, or escape.

Fathers of brides.
Best men.
School principals.
Chairman of boards
professionals and amateurs maximise time in sun
stretching time, and patience
– why should the clergy be different?

At the time when most priests
dispensed before commencement précis
post scripture explanation
pre-departure encouragement,
he moved through ceremony without intermission,
or trailer.
Except,
if the liturgy had been poignant
abandoned trust and redemption
hypocrisy curtained with piety
then, a soul pause : mute
not quite brief, not quite lingering.

He looked different in the dock
diminished without vestments and title
addressed by the judge as “Mr…”
referred to in the media as “ disgraced Catholic priest …”
Theft
tens of thousands – church funds
gold spun to straw
in slot machines and casinos. Unrecoverable.

She was from Chicago
spoke with the broad vowels of the Midwest
perhaps as balance to diminutive physique
the voice was large, and travelled ahead.
All her life had spent by The Great Lakes
Michigan, by spirit, and birth – home was Saginaw.
I could never hear the song America
without her and a Greyhound bus coming to mind.

She worked in the Windy City for a large bank
brash I suppose but,
with all the confidence was sadness.
She had been a gymnast, talented
going nowhere but up – the very top maybe.

One day a shutter click of inattention
a shattered pelvis
and severe internal injuries,
her days on the high beam over. Forever.
Showing off she said, one eye watching people,
watching her.
A heavy blow
but it wasn’t all bad
back to school and qualifications in law and finance.
Things were good now, gymnastics gone
but she had become a baseball fan – diehard.

When she made it clear
she and I would not be playing any games
I told her
I couldn’t expect a home run, every time I came to bat.
“That’s right,” she drawled
“and sometimes
“you’re not even on the team.”

Intelligence, a diamond of contrasting functionality
decorative elite & cutting tool essential.
Street smarts
intellect’s not so pretty step sister
valedictorian of the Joseph P. Kennedy diploma
in shoeshine wisdom.

A well-established business was for sale
premier restaurant and bar. An ace. No doubt.
Advice commissioned
reports read
All good. Finance raising is next.

En route, a chance encounter with an old work colleague
we swap small talk
and ask of each other’s lives.
Confidence informs him of current plans and
excitement of taking the plunge.
Expectation requests his opinion
and hears only ,“attaboy.”

Two days later, a phone call
the former workmate asking if plans have changed.
“No,”
he has made some calls
has some information – trash talk : literally
the refuge contractor taking away less, “quite a bit less.”

Right angled thoughts and bedside manner
had found a stethoscope
constantly taking the pulse.
He said he had no knowledge of the price
but his opinion was free
if the trend continued, the business would need CPR.

Interest was withdrawn
another party took the plunge, into
the deep end. Foreclosure, then bankruptcy.
Gratitude was effusive
and curious
how did he know to ask?
“Just an impulse ” – smarts, less expensive, more valuable.