Sin Fronteras Spring 2018 Sin Fronteras 2018 | Page 63

Retired
Michael Hogan
At the end of the inning, we have struck out the last batter
and left the green field of glory.
Like wrinkled bills, worn but still negotiable,
we have removed ourselves from circulation;
retreated from the battle before the smoke has cleared
with most of our faculties still intact.
Now we’ve gone into seclusion, slipped off to bed
at the end of a long day.
But only for a bit because we are really
semi-retired
half-out, half-in and only half-asleep;
half in retreat but semi-engaged.
This semi with its precise and imprecise meanings
neither fully here nor there but semi-detached from it all
semi-conscious of the trap into which we’ve half-fallen
along with the Seminoles who retreated to Florida with its
semi-tropical climate with all the other semi-finalists
who wonder: Where do we go from here?
at the end of the continent as the ocean
drags against the shingle and we slip down
the gravel slide of age hoping not to outlive
our money, our memories, our minds.
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