The Flute Player

In the subway, the flute player
(cents and dimes at his feet).

He is young and thin,
all sharp elbows and kissing lips
like an old time preacher
channeling Bach.

Watching him hunch over the notes
I can't help thinking
if the breath in his lungs
comes from God or hunger.

Then I wonder if I
who hunger after so many things
should even ask that question?
Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Smith Avatar
March 28, 2020 at 2:37 PM
Terrific Eric...
Ashford Avatar
March 28, 2020 at 2:41 PM
Thank you Charlie, always to get such a positive review.
Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace