(untitled.)

Outstretched Hand
by Anthony Flora

Grey eyes and a dirty beard
hang down to holy sneakers and
cracked hands holding cardboard
that asks God's blessing on those who give to the poor.
Weathered flannels, stained yellow teeth
don't find much to chew -
an empty stomach nags
a worn soul.
Scabs blemish two arms
filled with used veins
that can't often run in a straight line
since it makes the night warmer,
the bench softer,
the memories a little foggier.

So can you spare some change he asks -
'cause the night is long...