THE SMILE

A maid,

hair in corn rows,

paper sack faithful at her feet,

stands old and black

for the evening bus,

upright and fresh

as the grass

under the breezy tree

shading her back.

 

In the distance

whatever lifts her eyes

opens and closes her lips

as deftly as a leaf shifting,

and in that quick and sudden turning,

her root ragged teeth

flash.

 
 
 
 
 

Contents Next Poem Published Works