aroundtownpoem # 16
cold night out driving slow slow
to hear — before the signal falters
at my door — the whole of the
concerto so achingly sweet
achingly sad it forces tears
I detour slowly into the alley of
city water light and power drop
my payment in the slot saves
a stamp
the public library on my right
a jolt
bodies lined up rolled in quilts
cocoons pupas mummies no faces
no arms five six eight eleven
an empty shopping cart I creep
onto capitol a dozen persons still
stirring under the lincoln tinman
blankets drape shoulders
one last smoke
I sit in my drive until the
violin fades
until my eyes are dry
© Jacqueline Jackson 2006
This article appears in Nov 2-8, 2006.
