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Image by Shawn Gaske from Pixabay
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Oh, When the Saints . . .
Bent over his guitar, bobbing
to its rhythm, he sits on the center wall
that runs the length of the breakwater
Up and down the jetty
people are dancing, dancing
alone or in pairs
I want to be in that number
Even the fishermen
waiting for a bite
bounce to the beat
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Phyllis Wax writes in Milwaukee on a bluff overlooking Lake Michigan. Among the anthologies and journals in which her poetry has appeared are: The Widows’ Handbook, Birdsong, Spillway, Peacock Journal, Surreal Poetics, Naugatuck River Review, New Verse News, Portside, and Star 82 Review. A Best of the Net and Pushcart Prize nominee, she has read in coffee houses, bars, libraries and on the radio. Her work has been exhibited with art quilts and weavings in a variety of venues around the state of Wisconsin as part of four poet/fiber artist collaborations.
She can be reached at: [email protected]
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Phyllis-
I like the way you capture this moment. Simple, direct language. Then boom! “…I want to be in that number…” Me too, says I.
Very nice. I concur with John’s comments.