Lauded Poet at Home
The gardener does not know me
I drop the coins my fingers will not hold
My food I take from a tin
Soon letters will be coming
To tell me I am loved
My days were always numbered
Now they are numberless
Although I make myself ready
It is better just to live
Nor am I done forgetting
See you my slippers of gold
My medals prizes worthless amulets
Come we will exchange forgiveness
Come we will share a joke
7/30-8/24/96
Copyright 1996 by Maurice Leiter
Posted with permission.
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