Saturday, October 23, 2004

sisyphus 2

At six a.m. a weary woman rides the 4 train
from Brooklyn to Manhattan.

She is dressed for work--
gray uniform, white smock.

Eyes shut, she leans back in her seat,
slides rosary beads through warped fingers
quickly, with the desperation of a running man
on fire.


After thirty five years of marriage
and eleven years of separate beds,
my father continues to reach

for my mother’s retreating hand.

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