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Bereft

Even the freight train remains apprehensive
as it rumbles across the sleeping landscape
where a traveler rests with a book
in the crook of her arm.
Look at the way the shadows fall
on the nape of her neck.
Isn't it enough to awaken you
to the beauty of the hand?
the succulence of a still life?
jolting you into kindness
with the insistence of a phantom limb?
Forget about rummaging through the sale bin
for a cloak to hide your disfigurement.
You should have thought of that sooner.

Girl with Black Hair  by Egon Schiele