The Missed Tackle

How can all your life compress to a single moment

and all of it be air after all, you perfectly placed by your miss

to see every second of the consequence, your rival

(who you’d have dropped every other time

with ease) now galloping free, strutting in fact,

into the end zone with the prize –

all his life now made

in that one second

that was once

yours.

A room’s never too small

It was the Pope, I believe, who said

we shouldn’t close our eyes when praying,

that we could get stuck in there.

I had my eyes open when I read this,

and often do, but he’s right about

delicious doors closed against the world.

You can back up forever closing door after door.

A room’s never too small to hold another door.

Once a girl came knocking

Once a girl came knocking wanting

a priest but got me:

Would there be, were I to,

 

hell for my plate?

 

Who are you, why would you

ask me this thing?

 

I’m forlorn, twice gone, thrice ripped and stillborn –

and I would go.

 

Go not, promise please,

to this place that’s not there.

 

But go, she went, brief girl to the fair.