ANOTHER KIND OF INTIMACY
 
Sitting across in the whirlpool
Is a blind man
 
Although he must be aware
That I am there
 
He begins to sing
As if no one is near
 
I listen without interrupting
Then he reaches across
 
To stretch his leg
On the stairway
 
His toe is two inches from my body
He resumes his song
 
An improvised melody
Without lyrics
 
Part of me feels intruded upon
And another, grateful
 
Of this stranger’s
Silent gift

— Abraham Menashe
© 2017