Saul Bennett
The Gray White Way
To breathe aloud at midday
softly your dead child's name now less
than two years past is to be grazed
suddenly on the forehead in a gray silent
dawn cobbled block by an immense paper
bag filled with feathers hefted by a shave-
needy beggar wearing a raggedy
suit and torn wingtip shoes once he wore to
important business. His stained fedora
and yours are identical.