Author Archives: Timothy P. Schilling

Like candy

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What I first saw of the finger, what it

did do, was push a bike like the bead

of an abacus from high on the right

to the opposite corner. The rider knew

nothing of this, but I could see it clearly.

What the finger didn’t do, later in the day,

which I also saw, was swipe leisurely

through the pollen across the top of my car.

The pollen was green and would’ve tasted like candy.

I pity my compadre

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Don’t strike the snake

I thought as I struck

at the root of my sin.

Fear not but pity

weighed my spade as I cut

earth with my thought.

For the serpent, too, a creature is –

rise thus he must –

and the first to fall waits longest of all.

Yes, by God he’ll rise. I say it is just.

For what better blow

to the little man’s pride

than to give what he hates

and wants all along?