I'm not drawn by the moon, howling But coerced by the fingertips of the loneliest hour Where fears are underplayed—cigarettes Are not a threat, but a companion, as is the soft hum Of the streetlight (for my purposes, the imitation moon), Before the bully sun Elbows its way through the sky This isn't the still-up night, A loud Friday at the bar to prepare For a missed morning, but The already-awake night Hovering in the cusp of dawn Dark enough that, if I were still a child I would be afraid, and as an adult, Am, though in a different, definite regard-- Closing the door with minimal noise To let the mother robin Ten feet above me Sleep without intrusion
Dean Brooks graduated from Bemidji State in the spring of 2012 with a degree in Creative Writing. His poetry has been featured on KAXE’s “The Beat” in a poorly-read voice.
Categories: Poetry
Tagged: Dean Brooks,
3 Comments
Post a commentTrackbacks & Pingbacks