Share |
![](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_s0GX5ZEOqfB5iQHsKE5VRREArdeaWKB7XeBFop-clcsIrNRZkQOyyTfN-9zuXaxT-mFb-FbxqjOMNP-3P8qXvAiHIIiKYzfJMEA0FVAUXXpl6_wwIcQXDzxUbDkOueuExQ2ZbCY1U=s0-d) |
![](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_sLkVCZ6dHkNYcb013BrV0gIryeIgabXmXXt2fzijTViNeaaVQUlqFq4ZkBRcZT5PSPQ9JuSXNQMkZphXiaJUR8dSsiW7yVJO1nA2DgN2hiJG-Z5YH_Vyelzvar3KcBn5hs=s0-d) |
The Bagel
I stopped to pick up the bagel
rolling away in the wind,
annoyed with myself
for having dropped it
as if it were a portent.
Faster and faster it rolled,
with me running after it
bent low, gritting my teeth,
and I found myself doubled over
and rolling down the street
head over heels, one complete somersault
after another like a bagel
and strangely happy with myself.
David Ignatow
More poems from David Ignatow
|
|
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please leave a comment-- or suggestions, particularly of topics and places you'd like to see covered