First Walk after Cancer
New ugly house (too big) with girl on porch
cradling lacrosse stick; a Spanish lady, lost?
speaking Spanish to Bluetooth in her ear;
tied rods of rebar webbing a bridge under repair;
dude in red shorts, running—Hey, it's not that warm!
no red wheelbarrow; white chick
of seductive frame; ruined snow,
wet street; sun meeting my face
like a brother in a hospital room;
laborers from China in hard hats and uniforms
traversing embassy foundation, just a giant hole;
Israeli grounds next door, cordoned off with cable,
cameras at all corners; cops in car across
the street, 7-11 coffee cooling on the hood;
lost glove in bare tree; blue jay; my favorite shoes:
green lights everywhere, seen, if not understood.
The Figure of a Man Being Swallowed by a Fish
The University of Chicago Press
Copyright © 2013 by The University of Chicago
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission