ALL TODAY I LIVED
without my glasses. They lay
on my night stand, smudged, staring
up. My fingers traced photographs,
their memory fuzzy. No history
owned me. I wandered bridges, tunnels,
neighborhood stores. I never got lost.
A dog growled and barked. Good dog,
I heard, unsure if it was my voice
or my dog. When the siren sped past
I didn’t know which God I was
MICHAEL MARK‘s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Alaska Quarterly Review, The Arkansas International, Los Angeles Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, Pleiades, Rattle, The New York Times, The Sun, Poetry Daily, Waxwing and The Poetry Foundation‘s American Life in Poetry Series and other nice places. You can find more about him and his work here.