Milton Park

He would stare right back at her, thinking that this was The Miracle...

Milton Park

Tom would sit out on the stoop 
In the evenings,
With his Little One, Aubergine, 
On his knee.
He'd be drinking a beer
And watching the Sun go down. 
She would look right up at him, 
Stare him directly in the face,
With an expression that seemed half amused,
Half bewildered,
And he would stare right back at her,
Thinking that this was 
The Miracle. 
And he would stop by her crib at night,
And watch her sleep,
And think,
I am thirty-four years old. 

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John W. Wagner (b. Lexington, KY) is a poet who has lived throughout the Mid-Atlantic Region working as a blackjack and craps dealer in various casinos since the early Obama era. He has an eclectic love of music, as well as visual art. Words are his passion.

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