Monday, January 31, 2011

Disjointed

Like Ezekiel,
When he saw dry bones
Come done, my
Disjointed bones
Come done beyond
My prayer--
A random sound
That creeps down
Balconies and
A sky that’s fallen.
The hungry man
on the corner block
Asks for money--
His voice is
Wind that follows me
Too quiet at times…
Too foreign, not comforting
Yet familiar.

No comments:

Post a Comment