Poppy
http://www.maverickmagazine.com/articles/461/1/Poppy-/Page1.html
Todd Fredson
Todd Fredson’s poetry and non-fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in Poetry International, Blackbird, Court Green, 42 Opus, American Poetry Review, Puerto del Sol, Gulf Coast, RUNES, Slush Pile and other journals. He is the Director of Programming at the McReavy House Museum of Hood Canal. He lives in the Skokomish Valley, with his wife, Sarah Vap, and their sons.By Todd Fredson
Published on 05/12/2010
On the bus, we catch each other to the point of acknowledgment
then turn away.
One man waits with an unlit cigarette on his lip.
The soft side of his wrist tattooed
with an ideogram. Silver links of his watchband
then turn away.
One man waits with an unlit cigarette on his lip.
The soft side of his wrist tattooed
with an ideogram. Silver links of his watchband
On the bus, we catch each other to the point of acknowledgment
then turn away.
The man waits with an unlit cigarette on his lip.
The soft side of his wrist is tattooed
with an ideogram. Silver links of his watchband
slip up to his cuff, sleeves rolled to his elbows.
He seems, like the rain, a shy performer.
Everytime he opens his mouth
things are assumed against him. Anyway,
what story of this is yours?
The angel’s skirt
is simply a flower, Tunica Angeli,
orange-fringe
sister-fire to the brain, dusk sparks
triangulating something, a kind of judgment
as any perseverance is.
then turn away.
The man waits with an unlit cigarette on his lip.
The soft side of his wrist is tattooed
with an ideogram. Silver links of his watchband
slip up to his cuff, sleeves rolled to his elbows.
He seems, like the rain, a shy performer.
Everytime he opens his mouth
things are assumed against him. Anyway,
what story of this is yours?
The angel’s skirt
is simply a flower, Tunica Angeli,
orange-fringe
sister-fire to the brain, dusk sparks
triangulating something, a kind of judgment
as any perseverance is.