the vagabond

the vagabond

By Sarah Butkovi

a tumbleweed through city streets, 

a mess of black cologne. 

a dandelion sprouting from stomped-over 

concrete with both hands stretched out towards the night,

greedily he cusps the moon and drinks it,

for a saturated sugar high. 

there’s a shadow of a shinai behind him 

shrouding his weedy garden frame. 

but he pays it no mind 

and continues to sing to his arachnids 

or any other beast that will listen.