Portrait in Charcoal

by Ben Rasnic

The assignment was to peel the onion—
tobacco smoke beard glistening
silver fish darting among reeds, dark
pond brown with trout.

Face drawn and furrowed
from time ravaged
plow blades of stress
and abuse.

All these years
seemed so little had changed,
merely the permutations
of forwarding address

out of touch, the
ultimate stranger stealing time
with friends, even family,
except for few

illuminated loved ones, can
count them on cartoon fingers.
Serenity was merely
a few vodka shots away

until dreams became illusions,
left coyote
falling off cliffs,
frustrated.