At the Supper Table of a Progressive

They understood riots and death and what’s more,
“Adore them all really,” and down to the core,
So dropping my napkin to grant them the same,
I upset their table and rose with my frame,

A fine crystal pitcher of water was near,
Though leaded, I grabbed it and swung it with fear,
I counted their suffering as lame and far less
(but did feel some shame as I scooped up the mess).



To the Snide Man

Who called me barbaric; I gave him just that,
In 8 or 9 seconds? he woke up, when flat,
I did what he said, with his 3rd to last breath,
Obeyed his command, when he screamed for his death.



Alec Ream is a writer living in the Northern Neck of Virginia. His work has been printed in Decanto Poetry Magazine (West Sussex, UK) 2013-14, Western Viewpoints 2014 (Woodinville, Washington) and Poetic Images: the Great American West 2015 (Woodinville, Washington), The Society of Classical Poets Annual Journals 2015-19 (Mt Hope, New York), The Rocky Point Times 2016 (Puerto Peñasco, Mexico) and in several issues of The Lyric (Jericho, Vermont) 2015-18.  Currently, his work has gone to print in the Autumn Journal of The Writers Guild of Virginia, and his novel Canterbury 2020 is being edited for print in 2020 by High Tide Press in Deltaville, Virginia.  A member of the Demosthenian Literary Society at the University of Georgia, he deployed to Hawija, then wrote on Lookout Mountain, continuing to write, lecture and work for Delta Kappa Epsilon International. He prefers to note that he was first published reading to the pledge class of Michigan DKE, in Ann Arbor.

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One Response

  1. C.B. Anderson

    Alexander, if we ever dine together, please remind me not to insult you or talk politics.

    Some adjustments in the punctuation would make your ideas clearer. For instance, a semicolon after “fear,” because you begin a new sentence in the next line. And perhaps a period after “near,” for the same reason.


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