poem
Volume 23, Number 3

Heirloom

Just another
cold Market
Street morning.

Just another
ragged homeless dude
driving his shopping cart,
muttering to no one.

His precious
cargo? No
bags, no boxes, no backpack.

                      A tree.
Roots and all,
a maple tree,
sky-pointing
orange canopy.

Well,
what
would you
keep?


—Stephen Galiani