The Gift

The Gift
Or, ‘Shopping in Belfast’ (A Villanelle)


Alone the old man stands on slanted feet
His body stout with soured scent
Proud member of the impoverished elite

Alone he shops on a quiet back street
Unaware that our stares do not relent
As the old man stands on slanted feet

Alone he pays for shirts in size petite
Thirty tops and thirty pounds spent
Proud member of the impoverished elite

Together we laugh nearly indiscrete
Unappreciative of his sentiment
Still the old man stands on slanted feet

Alone he leaves with his gift complete
Oblivious to our judgement
Proud member of the impoverished elite

Alone I feel my guilt will not retreat
Ashamed member of the insolent
Alone the old man stood on slanted feet
Proud member of the impoverished elite