THE BOWL

To old men who stumble

onto the fiery plain

pity be given. Hold

out your bowl

here’s lettuce

a radish.

Remember to water at dusk

feeding the roots.

Notice your fingers.

They’re thickening.

Do not fear. Your weakness

is noted

but there is no reprieve.

This is a palace

for young men.

Behold them dancing

breath by breath.

Mankind desires hardness

and unknown skin.

Weep not. A place is reserved

a garden. Pluck

weeds by their roots

then bury. Before

the sun haul

water. All

will be well.

First published in La Piccioletta Barca, Issue 21 - July 2020