Scott Simpson · Poetry
The Street Sweeper
Selected Poems 1989 to 2009 · source pages 116
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Source page 116
The Street Sweeper
pushes his wood-
en handle like it was
a lover,
like he was some kind of woman
with hands for
churning butter, wrapping
fingers
around the unavoidable
the daily, the nightly,
like a mother
offering a breast to her child
middle of night,
nothing alive in the world
but hunger
and these cigarette butts
and Popsicle sticks and gum
wrappers
and dog crap
slip as easily into and out of
his hours his days
as pearls he collects
to pawn
for old age.
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