From My Condo . . .

From My Condo on the 23rd Floor

When I am old and no one listens,

I will count all the beats of my heart.  Each one

has a story to tell—don’t  forget.  Someone

will say,  “Remember the grackle

who sang to the sun each morning

in Veracruz and the juggler with three

oranges, the cars backed up in the street

to watch?”  The old man in the cart

blinks twice.  His horse turns to the right.

José is leaving for work.  His children

wake from dreams too late to say good-bye

to their father, too late to say they love him.

They wake from dreams too late

to say good-bye.  José is leaving for work.

The children blink twice, and the old horse        

turns down the right street to watch.                                               

The man sells his three oranges,

while backed up cars honk at the juggler

of Veracruz who sings to the sun

on the wall.  Someone says, “Don't forget—

the grackle has a story to tell.”  I will count

all the beats of my heart, each one,

when I am old and no one listens.

                                    --Donnell Hunter

 Published in Perspectives  BYU-Idaho Spring 2009