Slit by Slit

taking up space was the cardinal error,
but who noticed him, feet curled
beneath his body, his head leaning
forward, his eyes closed, seeming
to open slit by slit.

conversation echoed, the big room muffled
meaning, but not broadcaster sighs and whispers.

age mattered or didn’t, people approached
but he turned again, sliding away toward
the lonesome porch, a bare wood swing slipping
in the breezy evening, the eee-eee rusting
chain grating until he paused, stopped the motion
then sat, his full grin ecstatic, his posture
pedantic, his eerie eyes moving up
to the full moon, a dusty glob in summer sky.