Marcus Smith Poetry
I Saw Your Name
spelled with stones on the slope of a teenager's hill,
tagged along rainy highway sound barriers,
scrawled on an overpass of the M something,
stenciled in Arial across the side of a moving van,
postered and tattered on plywood walls tilting
and shaking in wind the building site summoned.
I saw your name on the door of my dented car,
on my front door, in my mail and messages.
in the eyes of cameras and jumbo-mumbo screens