Rejected

Dejected poets stand beside 

  the cliff dividing 

  sea from shore and fold 

rejected poems to gliders 

  that fly high then sink: 

  slide slowly to the 

  sea and melt like puddles in the sand 

reflecting thoughts that never made it 

  to the pages that they tore 

  from pads of paper filled with words that poured in streams that flowed like rivers to the 

  sea only to vaporize:

a mist of letters, floating down 

to land and calcify inside a shell,

 imprinting thoughts they feared 

no one would ever hear.

Unmet expectations

I’ve read so many books in which 

The characters describe with pain 

What disappointments they have been to their parents 

That I’ve begun to wonder 

If it might be that the Jesus myth’s at fault: 

That knowing that poor Mary — 

Who wasn’t even married — 

Could give birth to the savior of the universe, 

Each parent, pregnant, then develops expectations 

That each child must inevitably not meet. 

And then, when they’re born, 

And we see those bright eyes, 

Taking everything in, and learning so quickly, 

We project into the future and begin to imagine 

How much they could accomplish 

With all that intelligence, 

Taking each new small learning 

And extrapolating potential into miracles 

That, unhampered by the stuff that held US back, 

They might achieve, as we, like sweepers 

In the curling rink of life, brush away, 

That they might have a clear path to success.