The other day I received an e-mail containing a few poems from a friend who chooses to be called only "RHB". I was pleasantly surprised to get them. Here are two of the poems:
"The Suit"
By RHB
On a hanger,
Near the back of the closet,
Is a suit.
For a long time
It was my favorite.
I still think of it fondly,
Even though there's now
A moth hole in the left lapel
And the pants are way too big.
I remember when I bought it.
It was for a party we went to
Almost ten years ago.
I guess I could get it fixed --
Reweave the hole in the left lapel;
Rework the pants from 36 to 32.
But I won't. It belongs on its hanger.
And sometimes it makes me smile
And sometimes it makes me sad
To know that my love for that suit
Outlasted my love for you.© 1992
"Pigeon"
By RHB
On the way to work today
I saw a pigeon
Sitting on the sidewalk
Huddled against a building,
Blinking at the people passing by.
Not moving, except to turn its head.
I donšt know if it was just tired
Or had tried to fly through a window
Or if it had been kicked by some businessman.
It met my gaze, with eyes asking,
'Why do you hate me?'
I tried to tell it as I walked past,
'You have the wrong man.
I don't hate you,'
But I don't think it believed me.
I wasn't sure if I believed myself.On the way home from work today
I saw a little twist of mangled bones,
Some dried-husk skin
With a few gray feathers sticking to it,
Only moving when again tread upon
By some businessman's oxfords.
A little maligned life, over
Spent in the path of progress.© 1994