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Sunday Devotionby Robert SchechterAs Jack approached the sixteenth green to putt,he saw a limousine beyond the fence. He stopped, laid down his club, removed his hat, assumed a pose of purest reverence, and stood in silence as a hearse rolled by, trailed by long black cars with headlights lit despite the daylight. Jack let out a sigh, bowed his head, and softly wept a bit. His comrades in the foursome were impressed. “We never knew how sensitive you are! Oh what a pious man! Who would have guessed you cared for anything but breaking par?” Said Jack: “How could you think I’d shed no tears? That woman was my wife for forty years.”
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Robert Schechter has had poems and translations published in Light Quarterly, Anon, Evansville Review, Poetry East, among other journals.