Vanishing

Vanishing

Come find me hacking

through matted language,

hands wrinkled from routing

so many mistaken destinations

defined by dictionaries and numbers.

I walk without turning.

I scarcely have a head,

or shadow,

or chilled wind,

or camp-fire on my shoulders.

What I have are litanies of wrongs

endured.

My lover who ran away

with my best friend.

Mrs. Rose screaming

in my office over nothing.

My sister stuffing

the dirty dippers

under my sofa.

The years of poverty.

Numbers and medication

made me shy and small,

the uncivil war with weight,

until I was hardly there at all.

For a man of color,

I smile a lot

and keep on walking.