C. Wade Bentley

Do Over

     
   

Laugh like the demons
gone huffing into the sea.

Taste the final fig
before it withers, the second
wine at Cana.

And when Lazarus
comes out at last, by god,
you boys pick up Mary M.
and take it on the lam.

     
           
 

Saturdays

     
   

I’ll just go home now.  I have seen
the post-workout women in their tights
sweating together over green smoothies.
I have smiled at three young sisters
waiting for hairdos on a row of pink
plastic chairs.  So, it’s time.  Oh, and when
the gaggle of guys from the Mini Cooper
club stopped at Starbucks before mounting up
and hitting the road like horses and jockeys
in their silks—I knew I should be going.
I would almost like to be there when
the parallel lines of perspective near
nil and the whole lot lift off like a spinning
carousel into a blue summer sky as I
shout something true about how beautiful they
all are, and stand there wet-faced and waving.
But no.  Best to be gone before it comes to that.

     
           
 
   
     
 
      return to poetry
 

C. Wade Bentley lives, teaches, and writes in Salt Lake City.  For a good time, he enjoys wandering the Wasatch Mountains and playing with his four grandsons.  His poems have appeared or will soon be published in Cimarron Review, Best New Poets, Western Humanities Review, Subtropics, Rattle, ARDOR, Clapboard House, Chicago Quarterly Review, Innisfree Poetry Journal, Glass:  A Poetry Journal, and Raleigh Review, among others.  A chapbook of his poems, Askew, was published in 2013 by Red Ochre Press.