Three Poems by Jerry Judge
If I Met George W. Bush
by Jerry Judge
I’m a pacifist (usually) and besides
there would be scores of Secret Service men
measuring my every move – especially my hands.
No. It wouldn’t be physical, but I would yearn
to say something that would pierce him
for almost forever like depleted uranium.
Yet, what could I say or show
that would impact a mind and soul
wrapped in denial’s impregnable armor?
Like an armadillo bumping around
feeling nothing, the President
meanders on at our peril.
The Last Ghazal
The night sulks after betrayal by the day -
darkness without the relief of even one star.
Her sleep is restless like a herd of prey.
He sleeps like the stone of eternity.
Early sun more brilliant than ever before.
Even in the darkest cave a memory stirs.
There are no secrets in this bright sun.
The guilty fear time has exposed them.
Such an array of weapons for nature's use -
perhaps a massive quake to swallow mistakes.
Terror
small animals shriek –
the hoot owl’s
midnight forest feast
children in war time –
if they live
they’ll scream when they dream
bully after school –
just grinning
at terror’s profit
Jerry Judge is a poet and social worker from Cincinnati, Ohio. He is the author of three poetry chapbooks and has published in many literary journals. His last book was That Wild Bronco published by Pudding House Publications (2006).