PICKINGS
Poetry from NHI publications
ROLLY WICKER |
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Not for the girl in bikini so baked and bubbly and lean Nor for the muscled young man whose pack has gone far Nor the trim gentleman nor the modest woman who reads. It is for you my Rolly Wicker I stop. For your barrelling girth that heaps like a mound of slag. For your cotton polyester pants and your clogs and your mackinaw And your great infantile knee pressed up to your sleeping chin. For the slip of sandy hair over your brow and its gentle wave. You look as though you have never hurt anyone ever. You seem like something out of a Hindu myth, Some elephant creature whose breath keeps the trees in line. Pushes the cars, holds the buildings up. You look like every man who has come to the park and flopped. I do more than stop. I gawk. I almost bless. It is only out o respect for you, concern That you will awaken and see me and be ashamed That I do not draw out my pencil and pad and sketch. |
TONY COSIER |
from New Hope International New Series #4 Next poem Previous poem |
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