He Eats and Needs

 

 

 

 

Sitting silently,

His eyes avoid,

Tracing gray ground

Beneath the creaky seat.

Leathered hands

Dusted with black,

He holds what he owns.

A brown board

Big enough for

Everyone’s eyes,

But small enough to ignore.

Blackened words

Dashed

On the rough surface

Display a human in need.

Weathered by

Rain today

And the next

And the days after,

The man grips

The purple and white cup

The top rim soft.

The people hear

Muted jangling

Of pennies

Probably nickels and dimes

But don’t dare drop

Into that soft rimmed cup

Held by the leathered man

Wearing pants two sizes too big

Leading down to (two) feet whose soles

Scrape that metal bench

Displaying the brown board

Which will darken tomorrow

Spattering my hooded head

As the clouds roll over.

 

-Stephanie Montalti