Austin Robert Smith

THINGS WE DON'T OFTEN THINK OF

The nightmares
of beekeepers.

The wrists
of bakers.

The fathers
of murderers.

The birth
pains of cats.

The addresses
of mailmen.

The laughter
of deaf boys.

The obituaries
of faraway towns.

The taxi driver
driving home.

The barber
sweeping up hair.

The basement
of the house in the painting.

The backs
of hand mirrors.

The bridles
of dead horses.

The doors
of slaughterhouses.

The pens of old
love letters.

The fossils
in bulk gravel.

The music
boxes in shipwrecks.

The mountains
under the sea.

The darkness
in the accordion.

The night
reading of fishermen.

The skeletons
of astronauts.

The other side
of the coffin pillow.

The grave
of the undertaker.