A summer morning. As I move my feet step
by wary step, through the silent pinkening
of my still-sleeping neighborhood, I watch
for those stranded on sidewalks by the night’s
retreat. Though it takes effort, and though
I sometimes risk toppling, I lower myself
delicately down, low enough finally to nudge
their writhing blindness toward the safety
of dewdropped grass, because soon the sun
will rise high and harsh, quite keen to crisp
every raw and feeble straggler, including me.
This poem first appeared in Innisfree Poetry Journal (2023).
—
Kevin Grauke has published work in such places as The Threepenny Review, The Southern Review, Quarterly West, Ninth Letter, and Cimarron Review. He’s the author of the short story collection Shadows of Men (Queen’s Ferry Press). Bullies & Cowards is forthcoming from Cornerstone Press in 2026. He teaches at La Salle University and lives in Philadelphia.
