Two Poems by M.A. Schaffner

Corner Destination

They make their peace with dining at the bar

to live a life without reservations.
One’s place is always certain at the end.

Seen from a car on Sixty-Six the sun

makes a pest on a par with low slung jets
while a hawk closing on median groundhogs
would seem desperate enough for us all.

Let’s say there’s no profit in any of this,

just private score-sheets where talk will remain
a matter of weddings and mortgages,
with each new series distractions from what

has happened to the vanished and the air.

Better it be dark and the menu hold
something old with a difference for the day.

It All Comes Down To Investment Strategy

A little putty, a little paint, and life

just doesn’t get any better, though death
is just as feared.  What’s more, the more you have
the more you burn on sleepless nights tossing

thoughts like flaming candy, weighing prices,

penalties, and cures.  One never gets too old
to never want to give up anything:
dreams of houses with undiscovered rooms,

waking up thirty years younger and just

as wise or rich or not, though it’s OK.
Even the pope’s shoes seem simply tawdry,
even the pyramids a waste of time.

M. A. Schaffner has work recently published or forthcoming in The Hollins Critic, Magma, Tulane Review, Gargoyle, and The Delinquent.  Other writings include the poetry collection The Good Opinion of Squirrels, and the novel War Boys.  Schaffner spends most days in Arlington, Virginia or the 19^th century.