By: Carl Papa Palmer

Blue Tooth

I ask how she’s doing. As if contemplating her answer
she holds up a finger and begins speaking loudly,
but not quite looking at me.

She keeps turning away, gesturing to no one as I attempt
to look in her eyes while trying to keep up my end
of this confusing conversation.

Holding her hand over her right ear I notice the device
in her left ear. Obvious now, I understand, she has a
hearing loss, so I speak louder.

After several minutes of our awkward dance and flustered
facial expressions, she holds up her arms, looks at me,
“Okay, go ahead, I’m finished.”

I guess I am too, so I shrug and
continue my walk in the mall.

Poet’s Prayer

Not kneeling in a church pew
reciting catechism rote, a last
minute plea, genie lamp wish
upon a star desire nor begging
for winning lottery numbers,
just here this day to say thank
you for continuing to bless me
in spite of my transgressions.

I confess I attended service but
twice this past year, probably
like most Catholics, Easter and
Christmas, no vow for the next,
yet still feel You and I have a
pretty good relationship of inner
dialogue without the chanting
choreographed congregational
responses in church making me
more the fraud than what I am.

I mislead, spin yarns, take false
liberties justified by some self
served poetic license. I stretch
made up memories more each
time told to hold attention of
those who have heard me tell
my stories a time or two before.

But then, You’ve heard all this
many times, me avoiding blame
by calling my lies artistic effects,
but still, in spite of my untruths,
You take care of me, so I guess
we remain on good terms. If not
I’m sure You’ll be showing me a
sign. So until next time, I remain
the same in Your name, a fake,
a phony, liar and writer of poetry.

In the name of the Father, Son
and Holy Spirit, Amen

Catching Moby Dick

backyard dry run
hookless rehearsal
his first rod and reel

two right handed generations
teach the third generation, a leftie
the fine art of casting a line
setting the hook, reeling in the catch

for his first fishing expedition
with Papa and Dad
on the shores of Shadow Lake