Twos By Alan Bern

Two men have counted you          
accomplice to an illness;
they both created your
image for a stiffness.
Since neither could possess
you willingly to sit
beside, they handsomely
rejoiced in your spirit.
So, ghosted the pictures
they both drew. No pencil
deliberately pushed
to paper conjured you.
Their frustration replaced
any further dream each 
had.  With you out of reach
they next came face-to-face.
As the sky loses light
inexorably to night,
that slowly four lids closed
as if in a mirror
two twos were neatly lost.

Retired children’s librarian Alan Bern’s poetry books: No no the saddest and Waterwalking in Berkeley, Fithian Press; greater distance and other poems, Lines & Faces, his illustrated broadside press with artist/printer Robert Woods, Alan earned first runner-up in The Raw Art Review’s “Mirabai Prize for Poetry, 2020”; he won a medal in 2019 from SouthWest Writers for a WWII story set in Italia; he won the 2015 Littoral Press Poetry Prize. Recent photos:, unearthed, and thimblelitmag. Alan performs with dancer/choreographer Lucinda Weaver as PACES: dance & poetry fit to the space and with musicians from Composing Together,

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