Poetry Porch: Poetry


All The Weird Ones Come To Me
by Antoinette Treadway

because I look them in the eye because my big brother is crazy
all the bag men, the artists, gonzos, sparechange, rattling,
careful, gleam-in-the-eye, nothing-up-the-sleeve,
quick-quick men

all the fruitcakes you’re bound to meet on the streets of America

so I visit my brother in the nuthouse and they gather round

to bum a light
to smell me to tell me to show me
and never once to hurt me
except in their pressing-in all the time

and then my brother shepherds me outside
more transparent than the ones inside
softer and docile
and I am thankful

but he is needy, too, a thin wet dog,
a careful dog eyeing my shoes
hungry and hurting
ready for a light
so puppy-small and lost at times

if I touch him when he’s called in
he does not leave so hard
nor go so far

Copyright © 2014 by Antoinette Treadway.