Sunday Night, On the Patio, with the Fall of Icarus
I can already feel the weekend
melting away, along with summer,
the crickets cutting back, their black limbs
scraping themselves down to a cool breeze.
Sound carries most at night. In our heads
we think we sense the little things, hands
of a watch winding us into dark,
the pine needles whispering something
about the birth of another week.
We miss a lot though, dwelling instead
on the whine of a distant engine
revving well over the speed limit
as someone not unlike Icarus
tries as hard as they can to escape
the burning of time, failing, failing
to outrun the blur of this late hour—
.
Warren G. Harding’s Last Words
“That’s good. Go on, read some more.”
Not a bad way to go out,
considering he might have
muttered something about Nan
or Teapot Dome. The first days
of August, and the yellows
of autumn were already
sprouting through the gaps between
days, although Florence believed
it was just the heat.
……………………..She had
been reading a fluff piece from
The Saturday Evening Post,
something flattering, the way
Harding liked it. About his
modesty. Calm demeanor.
That small-town, midwestern charm.
She smoothed the pages flat, paused
for him to say what he said.
“That’s good. Go on, read some more.”
The directive sounded pleased,
even cheerful, a blending
of pride and satisfaction,
something worth remembering.
But really, it was filler—
the way last words often are,
and not so unlike a door
closing gently to a room
you don’t visit anymore.
Outside, the cicadas sung.
Florence shifted in her chair,
maybe meaning to pick up
where she’d left off. That is when
he leaned back, dreamt of who knows
what—Marion, Ohio,
his hopes for another term,
the body of his mistress,
how good it felt to lie down
in a bed of his own making.
© Robert Fillman
Robert Fillman is the author of The Melting Point (Broadstone Books, 2025), House Bird (Terrapin Books, 2022), and the chapbook, November Weather Spell (Main Street Rag, 2019). His poems have appeared in such journals as Salamander, Spoon River Poetry Review, and Tar River Poetry. He teaches at Kutztown University.
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