Two Poems by Ace Boggess

Today You Go Before the Board

I sat in your chair,
one like it,

staring at leering
stone gargoyles—

in folklore,
protectors from demons.

I smiled as I trembled,
couldn’t help it.

An end neared,
even if those strangers

with learned distrust &
bitterness

said no. At worst,
I found the floor,

however long it took
to walk across.

Your turn to seek
the neon Exit sign,

say a few words,
be judged again,

perhaps go home,
whatever home is,

as if each day
the cell

hasn’t grown
more snug.

*

Mysterious Radio Signal from Proxima Centauri

I hope it’s classic rock with grind & sleaze,
wailing voice of an ET diva
lamenting deaths by supernovae
of ten thousand suns.

None of this boring jam-
band trip of natural explanations
like pulsars, quasars, cosmic bounceback
of radiation, remnants of the First Note,

Big Bang. Let the sound be hardcore
funky, putting a tune in our tone-
deaf ears. Don’t say it’s nothing,
a loud lie from the heavens.

We need a roar with escape velocity
to understand how a song can be
the most important evidence
of life.

*

Ace Boggess is author of eight books of poetry, most recently Tell Us How to Live (Fernwood Press, 2025) and My Pandemic / Gratitude List (Mōtus Audāx Press, 2025). His writing has appeared in Indiana Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, Hanging Loose, and other journals. An ex-con, he lives in Charleston, West Virginia, where he writes, watches Criterion films, and tries to stay out of trouble. His first short-story collection, Always One Mistake, is forthcoming from Running Wild Press.