A Gathering of Four

The Eunoia Review has posted my poem “A Gathering of Four.” Please check it out.

Eunoia Review

This man (curled into
himself) sits outside
the turnstiles of Washington Street Station
right at the maw of the vast
subterranean Pedway
moaning with errant winds.
His cardboard sign faces his lap.
Dirt and thirst are kneaded
into the fibers of fleece.


Picasso’s old, blue
guitarist is blocks away,
propped up
by a cheap guitar.
His face – cadaverous,
fallen forward;
sunken eyes –
drawn shut as dry husks.
No warmth radiates
from cyan skin draped
over gentle bones.
No music escapes
this blind guitar.


As if trying to bow
her long-forgotten
cello, my grandmother
full of grace
breaks the prayer circle,
starts to wail
in dissonance with
winds at the window pane
among women
Rosary beads dangle
as two aunts
regather her hands
of thy womb
These tendoned talons
Mother, pray for us
pull and flex
with the banshee cries
at the hour of our…

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