Your Desk Chair Can’t Tell One Ass From The Next

The twilight’s too beautiful to let pass
without another sigh, another glass,
and reflection upon all things mortal,
including us. The narrowing portal
of light along the pinking horizon
incites the birds to a mad orison
to life and love, as a neighbor’s TV
flickers on next door and we briefly see
the smug grimace of an announcer’s face.
But then we turn back from the daily race
to its proper end – the shadowed garden
of bird song and shrubs. We beg their pardon
for not leaving more than this little plot,
but a lifetime’s gone to what life we’ve got.







About the Author: M. A. Schaffner has work recently published or forthcoming in The Hollins CriticMagmaTulane ReviewGargoyle, and Skirmish Magazine. Other writings include the poetry collection The Good Opinion of Squirrels, and the novel War Boys. Schaffner used to work as a civil servant, but now serves civil pugs.