Joshua Weiner

Two Poems


He’s up there in his room,
A marble under the bed,
The swirl of green in the world of glass
Intermingles with the red.

He knows I’m coming, yes, but
Does he know I’m him?
That the marble’s in my pocket now,
The investment of a charm?

I’m opening the door.
Now he’s looking up, expectantly.
But what I’m not yet ready for
He’s telling me.


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