Entourage

I’d love to be a solitary,
Independent beast
Kipling’s cat, walking (fencing) by herself
But honesty compels me to admit…

I do better with a retinue

A minor posse: one, or two, or three
Whom I know will get my
Little fencing jokes
(Displacement to the side
Point-in-line
The badger dance of victory)

Not giving me advice
Dictating actions, strategy or time
No puppet masters
Fencing in my stead

Just a friendly voice to nudge me when I flag
Bright with confidence that
I can do
That can be enough to
Give the little lift I need to
Boost me o’er the hump

So come and watch and yell, shout out,
Stomp and clap and cheer
And I will gladly do the same for you. Hey-la!

Appreciation (Poem for Barbara)

Hair white
Limbs bare of excess flesh
Crinkle at the eye’s fold
Accumulated years
And yet

You are not sweet at all

Tough, stubborn
Canny
Brave
Desiccating wit
Bearing little patience for
Fools and chatter

Dry lefty humor
Making life
As difficult as ere you can for
Supple opponents
Time and again you step up to face the
Wild and the strong
Half your age and twice your size
Resolute to
Make it count

You put me to shame…
I’ve lost only bits and pieces
You’ve shed
Wholesale chunks
Spliced together
Partially intact
You persevere
Taking up the blade
As soon as you are able
(Sooner than is wise)

I can think of worse than
Emulating your determination

Age is only wisdom…sometimes
Since you’ve got the knack, stick around and share it please
With those of us who’re yet to tread the path

Misdirection

Little shards of pain
A muscle tweaked
A throbbing thumb
Even a wrinkle in the sock

Count my breath
Hum a silly tune inside my mask
Working up the scale of Fibonacci until
I lose count

When it works
Flick lands, light as feather’s touch upon your back
Parry 2 riposte, upon the very edge of your lamé
My long coupe attack completes, unmindful of your squirm

Anything to wave a shiny object

At the corner of attention

Sometimes it’s enough to

Break the hold of

Tyrant mind

Given that I cannot think and do at the same time

April Second

Peanut butter in the glove
Menthol in the mask
The box reset to “sabre” every time you
Glance away
An urgent message that your car’s
Been towed

Best of all—your weapons surreptitiously
Assembled with a
shorter blade

All these glorious, wicked thoughts
Maybe it’s a good thing I stayed home last night…