Poem | Old Miami

 

Levine used to say if you remember one of his readings
that Donald Justice had never seen

a worker, and Justice who had practiced his childhood piano
on one of Miami’s old streets

could recall a sunburned man with a bucket of masonry trowels
who had walked by the porch window of his piano teacher

one summer at the end of a lesson hour, his red hair
stiffened by mortar.

Published in the October 20, 2017 issue: 
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Kevin Cantwell has published two books of poems and has had poems in The New Republic, Poetry Ireland Review, Irish Pages, Poetry, The Paris Review, and Commonweal. He is Dean of Graduate Studies at Middle Georgia State University.

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