Current Address
This is his address.
You can find him here,
watching behind sheers
that cloud a window.
He’ll go back to the same
winged chair in the front room
of this house, of the one before.
Sometimes he’s caught
on the stairs by a laugh
that knows him well.
His eyes will open in the dark
where years drift
across the papered walls.
This is where he stays,
where trees have raised
sidewalks in a city
four lifetimes old.
The houses lean here
as if uncomfortable.
Wind plays its classics,
clipping leaves into flight.
He pays scant attention
to the worn and missing numbers,
address being his next breath.
[This poem was first published in The Cherry Blossom Review]
Michael Tritto has been writing poetry since the early seventies. His work has appeared in many journals throughout the US, and in England, Ireland and Australia. Michael is retired from teaching Spanish in the Buffalo Public Schools.