Poetry by Wim Coleman
Indeed, you too will be frightened, my friends, by my wild wisdom; and perhaps you will flee from it, together with my enemies.
This voice, your voice—it ferries
me back to Mr. Hans, scoutmaster
from my Eternal Tenderfoot days,
drunken, hiding Playboys in his bunk,
sneering us into a conspiratorial huddle
around the cabin’s Heraclitean fireplace,
telling a tale to tease and to abduct
the weary yawning cold outside.
And his story—it was about himself:
the last alive of his once youthful gang,
doomed to descend into their bone-beating
madness—doomed that very night.
Were we scared? Yes, our laughter
betrayed it—boastful laughter,
goading fear to return and test us
again and again and again.
But our cots took the tale more piously—
and so did our sleeping bags,
quaking and moaning with mildewed
invitation; for they guessed well
the ranks of spirits they would possess
so very soon—too soon.
About the Poet
Wim Coleman is a playwright, poet, novelist, and nonfiction writer. His play _The Shackles of Liberty_ won the 2016 Southern Playwrights Competition. His poetry has appeared in a number of publications, and he has co-authored many books with his wife, Pat Perrin.
Vita Brevis Press. 