SILVER CIRCLE
Taylor Graham
We bear it on sidewalks spattered
by taggers. Boys behind steel grates
curse the slagheap of a city
they call by their own names.
We bear this single bead of rosary.
A temple breathes blind incense,
a hospital groans in glaring light.
Banks and liquor stores and thrift
shops have no use for a silver circle.
We bear it past the leaf-bound park
where city birds dress themselves
in winter feathers out of season.
We call their songs unanswered
and go along our way. One
abandoned nest, a silver circle.