2am

Cold rain clatters on the tin roof
A thousand typewriters chanting a litany
fingernails hammering, hail tumbling.

Sorrow and tears are warmer than this
your arms promise comfort
the gutters spew careless ice.

the shrike impales insects
on the thorns of regret
the caterpillars of doubt
seal my eyes with silk
make them pregnant with wings

the black footed slug eats the moss
from the steps of forgetting
the scars that remain
are the traces of you.

a hundred paths cross this mountain
a hundred choices to make
following the soft-pawed porcupine
my wings beat against the wind.

Advertisements

2 Responses to “2am”


  1. 1 John Stevens March 15, 2012 at 1:15 pm

    “2am” is an arresting title for a poem, alerting us to a rarified mood but not – or not yet – telling us why. And your opening line draws us along wanting to know more. I like this.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s




March 2012
M T W T F S S
« Jan   May »
 1234
567891011
12131415161718
19202122232425
262728293031  

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 24 other followers


%d bloggers like this: