After work
Yes,
I still work.
After work
I sit in the garden
under the arbor.
It’s late spring
almost May,
early flowers bloom
purple, yellow,
white. As the light
streams through
barren vines,
I sip a glass
of vin rosé
looking
toward the sun
beaming down
from the west, eyes
closed, heat full
on my face,
orange brilliant
behind my lids.
On this day
I envision
a later life friend—
Giuseppe, Renaldo,
Francesca or Mirabella
coming to join me
dominoes in hand.
Marc Swan is a vocational rehabilitation counselor living on Munjoy Hill in Portland Maine, poems coming out this year inSpillway, Common Ground Review, Borderlands: The Texas Review, and The Echo Room, among others.
