Amherst MA

Suspended in Amherst, once colonial, now suburban,

English strains flowing through the typography

of a purloined continent, homeland of displacement,

I, confined, yet drifting on main street,

aging face in a youthful band, pass a quarter

to a placeless man, and so

converse with Daniel, his buttoned jacket a probable

hand-me-down, gaining leave to turn

my camera upon his once white, now dark-browned face,

here among scattered strangers

seeking kindness, a people, with and without,

a nation awaiting a purifying dispensation.

First published in Sisyphus, Issue 6.2, Summer 2019