Suite Mercy (by my hubby Alan Phillips)

I know what became of the place

Though it makes no difference to you now,

It’s still there on the corner

Of two busy thoroughfares. You must have

Passed it several times able to cross

One boulevard perhaps, but never both.

I can’t name them, I don’t know the language,

But somewhere I heard the translation; one

Means I’m starving, the other, I can’t

Bring myself to eat, a dangerous intersection

For pedestrians, the traffic never stops.

Perhaps your need to find the address

In this city was misplaced, maybe you had

A bad map. Maybe you died lost, still

Searching, your last notes don’t tell. I can

Imagine you gaunt, staggering from fatigue,

Delirious, mumbling to yourself, too proud

To ask directions or quit. I think the discovery

Would have killed you anyway.

It’s a vacant lot, not even a mailbox.

© 2002-2009 Alan Phillips