September 2020
Ed Werstein
wersted@gmail.com
Bio Note: I'm a Regional VP of the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets and represent that group on our State Poet Laureate Commission. In 1969 I attended the largest anti-Vietnam protest n U.S. history in Washington, D.C. I've been a peace and union activistmy entire adult life.

Since 2013, I've been in love with Sylvia Cavanaugh.

Relationships

we offend
we repent
we’re forgiven
we rejoice

we’re offended
we’re implored
we forgive 
we rejoice

ad infinitum
or
ad finitum

Beginning with a Line from Joy Harjo

She had some horses,
my brother’s 1969 Mustang fastback.
Once, the Michigan State Patrol
clocked her (the Mustang, that is),
at 137 MPH on Highway 23,
between Toledo and Ann Arbor. 

I know it’s no longer politically correct
to refer to cars as she; that applying
the feminine article to inanimate objects
(like cars, boats, and geysers)
tends to contribute to the objectification
of women. But it was the only way 
I could make the title of this poem 
about my brother’s Mustang work.

Last Wishes

When I die I want it to be
by spontaneous combustion,
fat flaring and crackling,
hair flashing like magnesium.

Me, a meteor, approaching
the atmosphere of death.

Dying is inevitable,
but dying a dull, 
dreary death is not.
©2020 Ed Werstein
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