Anonymous

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Anonymous

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The man on the corner curb,

knees bandaged and bloodstained,

mocks

each passer-by

with a wink from his drunken

eyes.

Long hair like seaweed

glued around his neck and shoulders.

Child

of a tortured past, says he sees miracles

looking into storefront windows.

Lovers

ignore him, only children notice,

tugging on pant legs with defiance and

trepidation.

Says he plays cards with leprechauns,

has lived through an avalanche which fractured his

soul

into two. Unravels his bandages and shows

his wound: can’t remember how it happened.

Rain

floods his open hands.

His mouth, catching drops like

diamonds.

 

 

Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst

3018img182

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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Published in “The Pangolin Review, Issue 3.5”, June 2018

https://thepangolinreview.wixsite.com/mypoetrysite/current-issue-1

https://thepangolinreview.wixsite.com/mypoetrysite/archives

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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