Koan

Tracy Mishkin

 

A man slumps over the counter

breathing slowly. When he is gone,

the counter remains.

 

If you paint with water,

what will you see?

 

A woman runs over

the crest of a hill.

As the water dries,

the painting disappears.

First the hill. The woman

runs in space awhile

before she fades.

 

People lean against each other,

sun on the rocks over their heads.

 

In the end, a few spots,

stones on the side of the road.

 

 

 

 

 

Tracy Mishkin was born and raised in Indianapolis. She taught English at Georgia College & State University and at Butler University. Tracy has published poems in Flying Island, Poetica, and Tipton Poetry Journal and at PoetsUSA.com.   

 

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