Poetry Archives

A stone face higher than six horses stood five thousand
     years gazing at the world seeming to clutch a secret.
A boy passes and throws a niggerhead that chips off the
     end of the nose from the stone face; he lets fly a
     mud ball that spatters the right eye and cheek of the
     old looker-on.
The boy laughs and goes whistling “ee-ee-ee ee-ee-ee.”
     The stone face stands silent, seeming to clutch a
     secret.