"Singer's Missing" by Mark J Mitchell

You’re waiting for Singer. A sucker’s game.

Too near the bar, bridesmaids brush past you to find

lost brides. What building is this? Why’s his name

known to some, not all? The car drove past time

that dripped from columns. Are you in the band? 

Not Singer—you. A bass looks like something

you’d know. The house was named for a book. Sand

courtyards. Where’s Singer? Drink isn’t calling

your name you hope. You pray. Stop your old ears

with candlewax. Spot the old man who drove

the car you couldn’t. How many dark years

have slipped off like Singer? He wasn’t alone.

The drink feels close. You pocket your cold hands—

childish. The moon rises, pink as a fan.

Mark J. Mitchell has been a working poet for 50 years. His latest collection is Something To Be.. A novel, A Book of Lost Songs was recently published by Histria Books. He’s fond of baseball, Louis Aragon, Dante, and his wife, activist Joan Juster. He lives in San Francisco. He can be found on Bluesky @MJMitchellwriter