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ROTTEN FRUIT
The old woman slumped
by the pears,
next to the plums.
She spoke to herself
in a language
I did not know,
mumbling, low.
Her breath was overripe
and anyone who
smelled it knew
that she was
rotting
like the tomato
in the shadow
underneath the table,
in the darkness
on the floor.
THE BUM ON ALVARADO STREET
The old bum
pushes his shopping cart
up and down
Alvarado Street.
His rabid hair
and darting eyes
scream wilderness.
He stops
each time the
traffic light
turns red,
slave to some
instinct
he cannot root out.
He shifts his weight
from foot to foot,
flares his nostrils
like a horse
that smells the bit,
and waits for
green
to tell him
go.
Ben Brasher is an active-duty Marine currently teaching Korean
at the Defense Language Institute. On a recent deployment he
rediscovered his love of poetry and has been reading and writing
as much as his duties permit. His work can be seen online at
www.PoetsHaven.com and has recently appeared in the Black Book
Press.
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