I was in a hurry with the vegetables
and took a shortcut behind the grocery store
where butchers throw bones to hairless dogs.
He came from behind,
grabbed my shoulders, and threw me
into cardboard boxes. At first I thought
he would lob a Bible at my cranium.
But he only grabbed the bag.
I watched the carrot stems bob in his dark arms
as he disappeared into a doorway, and I noticed
the transparent afternoon
moon above the fire escape.
Poem from Appalachian Flood by Cindy Goff
available from Amazon
No comments:
Post a Comment