“Foregoing Drama” and “Glimpse”
By Mark Bennion
Foregoing Drama
I’d like to think of act three
without lions roaring on a rampart,
without the grand chorus line
or the ax coming down on my back.
I suspect there has to be
someone who just bites into a carrot
or savors a peach or plum
on the left center side of the stage.
No home run, no word of poison
or Fortinbras in the offing.
Just a second-class private
making a video call
to a younger sister,
speaking of what he ate
last night for dinner, and before long
he’ll begin his sidelong trek for home.
Glimpse
Dear Inner Construction Worker,
You’ve been hiding so long
I thought you’d gone off the grid,
beyond mountains and satellites, somewhere
in the earth’s mantle or a few fathoms
down in the great deep. I assume
you still haven’t read Verne’s
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea
or even seen an adaptation of it.
Neither have I,
but I sense you felt close to that depth
when I saw you last week
from what seemed more than a mile away—
your forearms struggling against a drill’s torque,
shaking on a ladder from 2003.
You’re alive! I thought, testing
yourself against lumber and metal.
You came out
like the sun after six weeks of rain,
and I saw what I’d never seen—
sauntering around the yard,
a sawdust filled flannel shirt, biceps
starting to bulge again, and your lips
creasing into a half-smile. While I didn’t hear
any music on the radio or a child
playing piano in the background,
I smelled wood and felt, for a few seconds,
the high pitch of a miter saw. I kept looking
to see if you were wielding a hammer
or squeezing pliers. And once you
saw me through the window, you shrugged,
turned to inspect some drying concrete,
and then began cleaning up the site.
Please know I wasn’t trying to single you out,
neither did I want to embarrass you.
Consider this note
an attempt to welcome you back.
With nuts and bolts,
Your Supervisor
Mark D. Bennion is trying to be a good husband, father, son, and brother. When not working on those areas of his life, he enjoys playing tennis, reading religious history, and taking the dog for a walk. He teaches at BYU-Idaho and his forthcoming book is Ambrosia: Love Poems (Finishing Line Press).
