“Ghost in His Clothes” by Jacob Erin-Cilberto


stuttering down the street
my shaky hands posing the question

will you give an indigent some words
to save his dignity

will you write him from your safe curb
a theme of deliverance

a quarter for his thoughts
then a dime for a cup of coffee

his body is mechanical nuts and bolts
creeping along with concrete despair

wishing his metaphorical life
made more sense in literal air

while his pocket filled with more cents
'cause that coffee is fleeting warmth
but at least when it burns his lips
he knows he's alive.