For Now by Gary Glauber

Though never told directly to hold back,

hands are tied and dictums delivered

in subtle and effective ways. 

Keep it all in check for now,

you’ve made these choices,

these changes of your own free will,

and isn’t life a process of becoming?

Be smart, don’t provide fodder for sabotage.

Instead try the route of tact and diplomacy,

swallow hard the bile that eats at you,

repeats back up from your soul. 

Suck it up and take a stab

at stockpiling aspects

that border on controversial,

those steamy sensual passages that raise

eyebrows, blood pressure, temperatures

to an adult  fever pitch in a manner

perhaps unbecoming to some.

Offend none for now.

File words away, safe from harm’s way,

gathering dust in drawers as they seethe  silently,

building momentum for some distant future,

when drawers are opened again, the words sent out

and shouted loud from unlikely public corners

to shock and awe a waiting world. 

That day, they’ll read and weep

and perhaps lose sleep, but for now

that burden rests within, and the

difficult message unstated

is more  than understood.


Gary Glauber is a poet, fiction writer, and teacher.  His works have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. He recently took part in Found Poetry Review’s Pulitzer Remix project. Recent poems are published or forthcoming in; Stone Voices; Emerge Literary Journal; Falling Star Magazine; Flutter Poetry Journal, Four and Twenty, Found Poetry Review, The Bicycle Review; Red Ochre Lit; The Kitchen Poet; Untitled, With Passengers; Chupa Chabra House; Eunoia Review; and Black Cat Lit.

Bay Laurel  /  Volume 2, Issue 3  /  Autumn 2013