Poem of the Day: ‘Estranged’


We float past each other,
like bodies nudged by the wind,
past shifting sunlight patterns
on sidewalks, past alleys where
shadows dance their slow dance,
past gardens with redbud trees in
full bloom, past a little boy in purple
pants, past an old man seated alone
finishing his brown bag lunch, past
a busker who looks like Yo Yo Ma,
past dour faces weighed by agendas,
past life itself, estranged from
the life of a breathing world by earbuds
and phones, necks so stiffened from
looking down that it’s is a pain to
look at the sky.

© Wallace Fong, August 2022

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