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Benjamin Schmitt Ne’er-do-well

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Bat Inside

Bat Inside

Ne’er-do-well

The summer air has developed a drug problem this hulking mass of swirling grey carcinogens fell face first on the beach the beach was cordoned off and we were all told to go home he was in the hospital for weeks mumbling baseball scores after his stomach was pumped

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And so the rain came with her weird parties we were instructed to wear funny hats while she played ragtime on an out of tune piano but no one wants to hear that crap in September it was nice to see her gone this morning when the summer air returned to swing his body on the rooftops

I was driving when I heard the gunshot it sounded like a lonely Christmas a few blocks later I saw blood stains on the leaves of the trees the summer air must’ve staggered through there leaves falling in his wake he left debts all over town and the cold wind stalking

Benjamin Schmitt

Benjamin Schmitt is the author of three books, most recently Soundtrack to a Fleeting Masculinity. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Antioch Review, The Good Men Project, Hobart, and elsewhere. A co-founder of Pacifica Writers’ Workshop, he has also written articles for The Seattle Times and At The Inkwell. He lives in Seattle with his wife and children.

Breakfast after church

She needed a ride to mass one Sunday, so we obliged and were rewarded by her offer to buy us breakfast.

On the way we passed the mall, and she recalled those acres were once a golf course her husband played.

Over coffee and eggs, she remembered their honeymoon at a Catskill resort where he tried to teach her the sport.

They made a foursome with some other honeymooners. She wore loafers while the others wore their spikes.

On one fairway, she said she swung nine times at the ball without hitting it. Embarrassed, she didn't take another stroke.

The next morning, her new spouse joined the other couple on the tennis court while she lolled at the lake—alone.

At home, photos of grandchildren bracket his urn on the mantle, and she muses, I don't know why I ever stayed with him.

Eric Chiles

Eric Chiles is a former career journalist who teaches writing and journalism at a number of colleges in eastern Pennsylvania. He is the author of the chapbook Caught in Between, and his poetry has appeared in Allegro, Big Windows Review, Canary, and elsewhere.

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