"A SHOP ON HAIGHT STREET" and "INNER WORKING" by Mark J. Mitchell

A SHOP ON HAIGHT STREET

The window’s full of tools to open eyes—

icons, idols, glass beads, halo polish—

discounted. Prices scrawled on discreet tan

cards. Money’s an afterthought. Buddha’s hands

reach out towards you, fat with blank knowledge,

like gifts, as if you’re not supposed to buy

anything here, but please come in and browse.

Something will choose you—dark cards, holy dice

that will tell you how not to move. Maps of lands

living for one truth and no other. Cheap Pans

for pagans, Christ for the frail. The fresh white walls

as clear as your reflection when the sun falls

just low enough to show your face, the crowd

strolling past. Dead friends call your name out loud.

INNER WORKING

Bone to nerve

nerve to bone

and back

the network

maps itself

with tics, with twinges

they let you know

things worked

and will work

It won’t last

but it will

return.

bio: I've been publishing poem for over 50 years. I studied with Ray Carver and George Hitchcok.