Monday, April 9, 2007

When the Bough Breaks

there's a man asleep on the metro,
avoiding the cold rain above,
the crowded street corners,
the uneven cobblestones.

he's tucked himself beneath a blue bench
on the south-bound seven line.
as the car brakes and accelerates
at each stop, i can see his body rock.

i can only imagine that he must,
for a moment,
just before the doors open and close,
remember a time
when arms rocked him instead of steel
when those who crowded around to stare
wrote poetry about his potential, not his predicament.


JustinWolf said...

this poem is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me.

William said...

Great Pound reference