The relativity of sky
Not even the malevolent street light
can block out Venus,
hung and smeared
like a scuff mark
on this turbid tremble of a night.
In two hours
the air will pop and heave,
scar bricks random but concentric.
The sky will pulse red
as neighbors solemnly meet,
joined in their curiosity.
In five hours
the trash collection will
jar and drag me awake.
My window more a funnel:
the street to my ear, a stranglehold
impressing my dreams.
In seven hours
I will draw my own constellation:
train A to point B.
The day will rise and rattle
like a cough,
the color of dirty blue jeans-
-worn, but not broken.
-KEA
10-12-04
can block out Venus,
hung and smeared
like a scuff mark
on this turbid tremble of a night.
In two hours
the air will pop and heave,
scar bricks random but concentric.
The sky will pulse red
as neighbors solemnly meet,
joined in their curiosity.
In five hours
the trash collection will
jar and drag me awake.
My window more a funnel:
the street to my ear, a stranglehold
impressing my dreams.
In seven hours
I will draw my own constellation:
train A to point B.
The day will rise and rattle
like a cough,
the color of dirty blue jeans-
-worn, but not broken.
-KEA
10-12-04