AT A NAVAJO POETRY READING

Photo by S. Auberle

Ice slivers the floor

where an old man sits

oblivious to stares

of wire-rimmed old hippie leftovers

and feral-eyed poet ladies

whose hair curls

down their steaming woolen backs,

listening to Navajo woman

who reminds him of the mother

who carried him,

swaying under her burden

as he sways now

back and forth

endlessly

grieving

that he will never be loved again,

his long deep sighs moaning

like desert winds

that might have warmed

his once-proud body

hunched now

into a shabby coat,

small and shamed and frightened

that someone will send him back

into that frozen

homeless night.

- Sharon Auberle - 1996