Bart Edelman: Three Poems
Whiff
Not that you need
To be glad if you do,
But what’s the harm
In missing the ball,
The girl, the test, the job?
It’s bound to happen—
Every now and then—
When stale air needs a breeze
You can easily provide
To break each day’s monotony,
Or night’s thick black line;
Produce a ghost or two,
While you’re at it, of course.
Yes, the heroic nature,
The challenge at stake,
Makes the act more noble
Than what’s been undertaken,
Long before any fall
Calls itself a failure.
And should nothing else ensue,
Simply smell the sweet mint—
Summer’s cocktail afternoon.