By: J.K. Durick

What Time Does

Eventually this all
Goes away
Disappears into
Time
Becomes the history
They will study
Look back on us
And wonder
What we were thinking
What influenced
The outcomes
We have made
The things we lost
And the things
We have gained.
News does that
Makes everything
Temporary
Except the damage
We’ve done
To ourselves
And anyone who
Comes after us.

Game Gone

By the fourth quarter the grandstands
Are emptying, almost all the fans have
Gone. Perhaps there’s still an echo of all
The cheering, the noise they made while
Still there, but the only sounds are out on
The field, the game still going on, sliding
Into the record books, another loss. It’s
Not hard to remember how this all began.
Hopeful anticipation kept the stands full
With noise and presence, but as the game
Began to unwrap, unravel the quietening
Of the crowd began. For a while it seemed
Like maybe they had a chance. A good play
Or two and things would begin to correct
Themselves. They can’t be this good. We
Can’t be this bad. Or can they. Or can we.
Time passed and the score never got better
And getting home became more important
Than staying till the end and appearing to be
Good sports or faithful fans. Then the fourth
Quarter arrives and waves mercilessly to all
The empty seats. The clock winds down and
They’re almost home or in some bar or some
Dorm room replaying the loss in their heads
And wondering how this could be.

Planning Ahead

It’s best when things
Work themselves out
The way we planned.
Sat up planning
Even woke up around
3AM to work on it
Some more, then more
In the morning.
Planning never goes away
The way it should.
The final finished plan
Should be there
Waiting for us.
We did the work
Spent the time
Lost sleep and more
But when it comes to be
Comes around
Whatever it was/is
We find we are playing
By ear as if
All that planning
We wrought
Was for naught.