Monday, September 21, 2020

The High Hurdle by Bruce Morton

We were a sorry lot.
We were sorry a lot.
Sorry we were not home
Sorry we were here
Sorry she was not here
Sorry to be in the army
Sorry to be drinking
Sorry we were not sorry
About being so sorry.

So Jumpin’ George
Set up his plank bar—
Called it the High Hurdle,
Where sorrows could be
Poured or shaken,
Taken on ice or neat.
It was a low hurdle
And we were not sorry
When we stepped over it.




Bruce Morton splits his time between Montana and Arizona. His volume of poems, Simple Arithmetic and Other Artifices, was published in 2015. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in various magazines and anthologies including, most recently, Muddy River Poetry Review, Mason Street Review, Main Street Rag, Nixes Mate Review, Grey Sparrow Journal, Sin Fronteras/Writers Without Borders, Anti-Heroin Chic, and Blue Unicorn.



-

1 comment:

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

FAIRBANKS By Kent Fielding

  with a line after Bukowski The swallows are rough today like ingrown toenails As I wake hung-over again, again in a room I do not recogniz...

  • Gozzlebeck’s By Terry Jude Miller
    near the on-ramp of I-10 in Crowley, Louisiana we unload our band equipment into the back of Gozzlebeck’s not the real name of the bar but a...
  • A Toast To Lust By Rita S. Spalding
    Diamond hair Bathe in bourbon and butter You are my Sunday prayer You are everything  You are all You are life Rita S. Spalding has had poem...
  • her son By Stephen House
    there is a woman who is sometimes at my local café sitting outside with a glass of white wine and that’s not too unusual but i always notice...