Thomas M. McDade is a 76-year-old resident of Fredericksburg, VA, previously CT & RI. He is a 1973 graduate of Fairfield University, Fairfield, CT. McDade is twice a U.S. Navy Veteran serving ashore at the Fleet Anti-Air Warfare Training Center, Dam Neck Virginia Beach, VA, and at sea aboard the USS Mullinnix (DD-944) and USS Miller (DE / FF-1091.) His poetry has most recently been published by Chariot Press Review, Feisty Runts, and Dear Booze.
The Storm Virgin
Aboard the Mullinnix
My first storm at sea
I’m a deck hand exempt
From the word passed
All hands remain inside
The skin of the ship
I fight my way
Out a watertight door
To secure loose gear
On the 01 level
I wrestle the gale
To trap a canvas tarp
That wants to sail
Me high and away
I battle it over a reel
Of cable as a kidnapper
Might a victim and pull
The eely draw line taut
As a lifejacket strap
The rain is a plague
Of antic inoculations
And there is no Navy
Vessel christened
USS Immunity
Thanksgiving High
Over the Wabash welcome
To the Crossroads of America
Wild Turkeys a driving hazard:
In Ohio Indiana and Kentucky
Gas up at a Marathon Station
Kentucky Christian University
The times of your life
A Preaux Life decal on a semi
Hello West Virginia
Hal Greer Boulevard
(NBA jersey #15)
State Capital in sight
How many fast breaks away
Charleston Stadium
The Chuck Yeager Bridge
How many have mistaken
Their arms for wings
By God he flew under it
Korean War Vets sign on
38th Parallel North Highway
Wild turkey hunting
Season is in October
The same-named whiskey
Never disappoints
The ads say
Moon Handling
A red ring
circles the moon
and I’m walking
the Parkway
but just take peeks
must beware
of cars and trucks
that might want to
do more than just
scare or blind
No sidewalk stroll
as trees have
popped roots
turned the asphalt
into tripping zones
An overpass
has fencing rising
from its rails that
curves inward
nine feet up
yet a man
or women with
half a mind to leap
to the road below
need only walk
to either side of
the barrier to
find a way
when eyes act
like binoculars
to make two
headlights into one
and more moons
than a mind
can handle
and the crimson
lunar ring
is a pair
of red lips
propped open
in aria or in
mock distress
