Dennis Barone: Solitaire

Spring '11 TOC

Lines across a surface,
unreadable lines of ink
against the hard white
copier paper. The angle is
all wrong. Even if these
words were those of my
guardian angel, they’d be
indecipherable, unknown.

The stars come out.
But I am in a room and
the stars are not out.
Here is a government inspector.
He has a match. I wait
and while I wait I sit
and while I sit I wish for
hot coffee, a newspaper;
a little something to eat.

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Not Enough Night
Not Enough Night
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