Street-Cleaner Stops for Lunch

MacKnight Black

His fathers had eaten their bread and cheese
In the noon shade of vineyards,
And lain, heavy with sun, and stared
At the Italian sky.

His thick brown fingers
Push bread and cheese and bologna
Between bright teeth
Into the red dark warmth of his mouth.
He chews heavily,
With his eyes toward one cloud
Caught on the canyon top
Of the street.