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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