Poem - “Beatific”
I watch him bob across the intersection,
Squat legs bowed in black sweatpants.
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I watch him smile at nobody, at our traffic
Stopped to accommodate his slow going.
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His arms churn the air. His comic jog
Carries him nowhere. But it is as if he hears
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A voice in our idling engines, calling him
Lithe, Swift, Prince of Creation. Every least leaf
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Shivers in the sun, while we sit, bothered,
Late, captive to this thing commanding
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Wait for this man. Wait for him.
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“Beatific” from Wade in the Water. Copyright © 2018 by Tracy K. Smith. Reprinted with permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of Graywolf Press, Minneapolis, MN, graywolfpress.org.