All day I carry it around with me,
In a frame that borders the end of the world.
I don’t know where to hang it,
This portrait of death.
It seems to be hanging everywhere;
I want it to hang in a particular place,
So I can brace myself to look at it.
As for the old man, he is always there,
When I steal a glimpse at his haggard face.
Is he there when I’m not looking?
That is the question.
Lee Evans was born in Annapolis Maryland. After working for a florist, Goodwill Industries and the Maryland State Archives, he moved with his wife to Maine, where he now works for the local YMCA. He has self published several volumes of poetry which are available from Lulu.com.