Snow Man

By Mark Belair

An old man combed his thin, white hair with a white plastic fork.

He wore a white sweatshirt and white sweatpants.

Two overstuffed, white plastic bags sat on the park bench next to him.

Then he leaned forward, folded his hands, hung his head, and wept.

I stood beneath my black umbrella and watched.

It was raining out.

___

Mark Belair’s poems have appeared in numerous journals, including Atlanta Review, Fulcrum, Harvard Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, Poetry East, The South Carolina Review, and The Sun. His books include the collection While We’re Waiting (Aldrich Press, 2013) and two chapbook collections: Night Watch (Finishing Line Press, 2013), and Walk With Me (Parallel Press of the University of Wisconsin at Madison, 2012). For more information, please visit www.markbelair.com


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