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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
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
https://ameetp23.wixsite.com/mysite-1/issue-3-5
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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:
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