| Nicole Markley USA Winter I saw in her eyes what I see also in the mirror, She, sitting, stone-cold, solid on a city bus Her pale, thin bony hands clutching, for dear breath, A knitted bag, purchased somewhere out On the West side, I guessed. I imagined her later, with that mouth- The mouth of a starving child, tongue, And salivating for a bowl of something, anything, And "Yet this is America"- Beside her, sitting close, as we all were, A brother; man, friend- At him she often glanced, muttered a word, The two looked out beyond the driver, So sad- So sad, miserably awaiting something- Yearning for something I could only comprehend to be food, The look was so pathetic, so ridiculous- And yet, I see this in the mirror, Everytime I remember these two; The look of their eyes, the girl, her mouth- The shape of her upper lip, pushing, So sadly and resentfully on top of the lower- And the starving glances- We must all be waiting for something, Miserably waiting. And with no hope, as the girl sat, I saw profoundly into the circle of things, That we are all sad and starving, In America, In our own ways. All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission. |