A Man Asking for Alms Near My Home.

So full that sort of knowing—
the sudden finality of a truth
as crisp and resonate as Beethoven deaf
ear to the floor of your late thirties.
The cats sleep through the walls
listening for a snap or shuffle or fugue
while the old trees in the yard beg for alms
against the back windows—just redone this summer.
So dumb love you outdo even yourself
in your long clattering and future telling.
The beads around your neck twirl like heaven
and say “cat nap in the sun.”
The black telling of a dove
comes out of the sea spilling stories
of the stars how they, when etherized
laid out upon our table and we were not so hungry.
“No thank you I’ve eaten.”
Say the beads around your neck.

josh-bauerJosh Bauer received an M.F.A from Portland State University. His most recent publications are The Broken Plate and Green Mountains Review.

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