The face on the park bench
has gathered a crowd.
It is smooth and thin and likes soda,
a folded can sits by a newspaper.
Flies and insects typical of
summer feasts and garbage
buzz around the crowd.
The face is not bothered by them.
The face belongs to a young man
with a tenor’s expression,
with the skin of autumn skies.
Eyes fixed on the clouds
with the deep look of glaciers.
Arms clasped together,
mimic the faithful stance
in paintings of the crucifixion.
The improvised stage
looses a little perimeter when
a trail of ants exits the mouth on the face.
I think of his mother and then of mine.
Someone uses a cell phone,
others murmur like insects.
No one touches god’s garbage.
DQ 9/4/06
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5 comments:
I really like this, keros. So tender and full of humanity. I found the ending especially powerful.
Lyle, thanks for reading and leting me know exactly what touched you about these words.
You comment is very much appreciated-
DQ
This is a very good poem,keros.In its starkness it reminds me of a Dylan Thomas poem.
good poem. surprises with almost every line. i like that in a poem.
RC- I would be interested in reading the Dylan Thomas Poem. So if you stop by again and remember the title let me know. And- again- thanks for commenting.
Jill- I also love poems that suprise me with everyline. I am glad that this poem did that for you (thank you). I missed out on the suprises of this poem...since I kind of knew what was coming next.
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