11/13/2015

Afraid of the Dark

Poems for a Weekday

The Block Journey

From the dark,
fewer neglected neon signs.
More open stores.
I had survived the block journey again,
and my pale face regained its color.

Flicked

“Look up, bitch.”
I looked up.
Somebody had flicked my side.
Just a glimpse
of the figure,
in the dark.
On a dark street.
What?
I kept walking.

Piercing White

“Five dolla, five dolla, five dolla.”
The ground is wet.
It's dark out.
He sits on that wet, dark sidewalk.
Piercing white hydrangeas glisten beside him,
waiting to be loved,
but only a cardboard sign will keep them company.
I walk briskly past,
for five dollars is too much to pay.

Rotary of Words

In a rut of empty
filler words.
“Just kidding.”
“I know.”
“You know.”
“I'm not.”
I turn the rotary,
“Right?”
not from zero to nine,
but because there's comfort in agreement,
repetition.
No awkward silences
to take over the looming,
empty
space.