Jul/Aug 2005 Poetry


by Dave Smith


is run,n,,nning out
side. She is
running out
of time.
Three at a
,a time
she takes the ssssteps.
Three attatatime
she skips her breaths
running wide and wild eyed
tearing holes in
pedestrian traffic.
She's t,tearing holes in
her new green jacket
and the down stuffing trails in the blur.
I can see her.

She is the she
who only turned her back
for a second.
The she that
would sing along
in a second.
The very she that
wouldn't leave him
unattended for a second.

But sh,shhhe did
and now her ragged breaths and
now her staggered footfall,
I can see, she runs.

And now one shoulder
collides with a fruit
vendor's,s,side and she spins ,
hysteric intensity lost
for an instant.
Finding her foot,No ,,
her fffeet!
driven by the
looming promise of loss,
she ,
lurches forward
she st-st-staggers
and almost falls
onto the mitten for his left hand
oh ... that's the mitten for his left hand
oh,her eyes say"oh ... that's his mitten."

F,ff,,from here
I can see
the whole street Icansee
her eyes saying
oh ,
and I see
around the corner
w,w,walking with his naked hand
enclosed in a hand ,
without a mitten.


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