Mustard Seed (Part 2)
And here we receive his hugs and
groping
grasps,
We are here
standing around,
waiting –
now used to the spectacle
and we are
ignoring him.
Now a woman
wearing scrubs and
a flowered white shirt
notices.
She approaches
the group and
says to us: “Morning,”
and to him: “Come on,”
and she pulls his hand away
and leads him to an adjacent building
through a door
made of bars
with a wrinkled paper sign
that reads
“Please Keep Door Closed”.
The yellow paint on the outer walls
fades at the top
in dripping cement streaks;
the roof is topped by
ominous
weedy
sticks
of rebar,
their placement
apparently haphazard,
their meaning
and
purpose obscured,
crookedly pointing
upward
toward the
clouded
sky.
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