Poem: Broker

By: JD DeHart


Behind dark glasses,
with a derivative haircut,
slicked back like a government
agent on a Saturday morning
he looks ready to made a deal,
smoothing out the jagged
edges of bartering.

Maybe a novice negotiator,
maybe barely able to construct
a sentence, but he gives this
impression of silent talent,
closed mouth around a silver

A predilection for quick switches,
the just right word,
but he remains silent as we pass by
so we will never know for sure.


Categories: Poetry

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