2 Poems — Ace Boggess
Universal Pictures, 1931
Specter, shadow: Bela, I love
how it’s music that moves you, &
the women. Yet, you have
wooed the last of my lovers
with your stare that leads to paradise,
your long pianist’s fingers,
the throaty growl of your voice
like morning Buddhists chanting the Om.
You have tamed each Mina in my life,
mesmerized & frightened her,
made her want you without saying.
She’d have you in grainy black & white,
while I despise what I admire, curse
then cross myself as I envy the stake
that finds its way to your heart.
The Time Machine
He inherits the atom. Is it possible
to anticipate a future in Metrocolor,
well-fed hippie children waiting,
for a chime to serenade them?
I’ll keep my city noise,
the dead man’s float of traffic,
maybe pizza once a week &
a woman who grows old with me.
To land in this Utopian lie,
who’d play the hero? Not I
with my popcorn & cigarettes,
not any old Secretary of Defense
obsessed about charts, computers &
entire armies of funny little bombs.
Ace Boggess is the author of two books of poetry: The Prisoners (Brick Road, 2014) and The Beautiful Girl Whose Wish Was Not Fulfilled (Highwire, 2003). He is an ex-con, ex-husband, ex-reporter and completely exhausted by all the things he isn’t anymore. His writing has appeared in Harvard Review, Mid-American Review, RATTLE, River Styx, and many other journals. He lives in Charleston, West Virginia.