two poems

by Bart Edelman

Secret

Did something foolish.

Not sure it’s illegal.

But I’d like to confess.

Find the nearest priest.

Unburden myself soon.

Regarding the misgiving,

I’m sure I’m in the clear—

Privately speaking, of course.

There wasn’t a witness.

Nobody appeared injured,

As far as I can figure.

Still, it bothers me.

Haunts part of my day.

Keeps me up each night.

I won’t tell a soul.

Don’t care to be judged

By this act alone.

Could have committed worse.

Yet that’s not the point, is it?

If this goes on much longer,

I’ll turn myself in.

Request mercy’s grace—

Once and for all.

Snap, Crackle, Pop

I’d have mentioned it sooner,

But you know how that goes.

Both of us busy before realizing

What needs attention.

After much thought, then,

Here it is, I’m afraid.

I want out of this mess—

Too much for me to handle.

Not sure why I let it slide.

Turned my back on you,

Or fate for that matter.

Slept through the last month.

Checked out, and all that rot.

Wasn’t very fair of me.

So I’ll take my lumps.

Offer you an agreement.

Be mature about the affair.

Leave on the best terms.

Really, I wish you Jupiter—

Anything you desire.

Just let me finish breakfast…

Snap, Crackle, Pop.

Photo of Bart Edelman

BIO: Bart Edelman’s poetry collections include Crossing the Hackensack, Under Damaris’ Dress, The Alphabet of Love, The Gentle Man, The Last Mojito, The Geographer’s Wife, Whistling to Trick the Wind, and This Body Is Never at Rest: New and Selected Poems 1993 – 2023. He has taught at Glendale College, where he edited Eclipse, a literary journal, and, most recently, in the MFA program at Antioch University, Los Angeles. His work has been anthologized in textbooks published by City Lights Books, Etruscan Press, Harcourt Brace, Longman, McGraw-Hill, Prentice Hall, the University of Iowa Press, Wadsworth, and others. He lives in Pasadena, California.