The Common Good

Tim Bascom

Articles by Tim Bascom

Night Janitor
December 1, 1994


Hunched over his mop, backbone like knotted cord,

Biceps straining with age, he scours away

The stains of yesterday, ridding the room

Of ghostly sneaker prints, crab apple pitch,

Eucharist
January 1, 1994

The old one sits with limp hands, closed eyes.

She is gone, out there singing softly

And making love to God.