---

 

this writing appears in the Mark Fleury 2010 poetry book In Your Heart, the Apostrophe’s Teardrops of God now available for only 1000

enjoy this Mark Fleury writing in the 6" x 9" 2015 ISBN# paperback collection book Seeing Strangers			Enjoy this compilation book in Scars’ Mark Fleury poetry book (of THREE books!) as a 6" x 9" perfect-bound paperback ISBN# book! Click on the cover or any linked text for the book Seeing Strangers

Chess

Mark Fleury

I didn’t expect
A root to grow from the center
Of the sun, west of a construction-

Sited valley. A tennis ball
Got tossed down in, away from our
Air-guitared rackets,

And hit the sunny side
Of a church. There, nailed for

The sin of lisping,

The fine hairs that covered
Up my forearms I thought
More than made up for anything
Unmanly about my appearance
Because, when shone sun-lit from
Behind, my arms were wings of fire.
And even a priest couldn’t argue
With that friendship.

And the valley, created
By being eaten away via wind and rain,
Gave Harry the Hippie and me
A place to watch the sun

As though it was setting
Into a toilet. I blame that
On high school, though, not drugs.

The inside of the tennis ball
Became my passion, as though the
Inside flowering of an egg
Could reach its shadow.

I hid my gun under the deck
Where the distance between my best imaginary
Friend digging for worms
Was as far as a urinal to a

Football field. Give or take the stands
Where the fans stood entranced
By the lights, as if all was lit
By heaven.

My gun had long hair
And wouldn’t be recovered
From under the weeds
And wheels: a mouth ready to snap
Shut on me, to jump on my back
From the edge of its shape as I
Walked home from the big game.

After the rain
That made the grass extra green,
The gun got too big to piss
From and wanted its own helmet.
Hell, its own sporting event.

That’s how the slope
To church became my place
Sometimes for solidifying
Muscles between Mass

And Cross. Swallowed.

Demanding a fence be put around
The tennis court to keep out

Stray sledders kept summer
And winter at odds,

And the chess pieces
Kept wanting to make
Friends with autumn

And spring. We had to search
Garage and basement for black and white squares,
And with the help of a
German shepherd police dog,
Who could smell distances

Of blood to rock, we found Cain,
Cowering in a corner,

Shivering with chessboard wings.

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...