SHAKING HANDS with the poor
Everywhere
He tours
...and they can sing
His songs, they have
His voice
"They know for whom they are."
Singing with no microphone
Very much game.
The quivering tonsils
Reach for his pitch
...and what is missed is
Carried over
By the echo
Of their arching limbs.
Those desperate
Gestures to the sky.
The voice that even he
Mouths to:
Open and close
Open. The air is his
Tonight.
Never will he ever
Have those hands.
