PoetryRepairShop -- Contemporary International Poetry 

I watched him tend his garden each dear day,
until his heart stopped 
like a blinkin' gnat in the eye.
A tinkling tear wiggled it's way
along a crease then plopped,
unswept, in his ear.
Motionless chest - a half empty
rain barrel grown by the gate 
(which never really closed all the way.)
Soil grubbed under his fingernails.
A beanful basket. Two tomatoes.
A lawn chair folded into itself.
Rusty old swing unswung.
Skipper dog dozing in the dust.
Breezeless socks and shirts and sheets
loosely drooping on the line.
For eight years
he tasted 
like cotton candy 
in my mouth.

(©1999 all rights retained by author





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