The Watchman

He sits
On a throne of broken wood
Paired and stacked in ordered planks
Engulfed within a scent of coffee
And faint lights

He is the watchman with four legs,
Whose brown skin shows no stain,
nor any wrinkles.

He will see hundreds of youths stagger today
And hear hundreds of hymns
From the youths who chatter and sip
Black.

Beside him is a girl who cannot see
Out of monstrous eyes glazed with tears

He will shield her from her discomfort
And know the reason for each tear the girl gifts
As she sits upon him
Unspoken.

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Patricio Carrasco is a junior Biology major at SUNY Geneseo. He enjoys reading and writing in his spare time, and hopes to become proficient at poetry after discovering a passion for it in his creative writing course.