by Colin Scharf |
|
I. |
|
through the hollow aluminum vent snaking
between walls
the rhythmic stomp of a first-floor
alarm clock sharpening its razors
seeps through a second- story bedroom grate
and slices the frames of dreams with
sweaty blades—
confusing scenes with dead leaves
it tosses them out for the wind’s
amusement—
all of this destruction
before it peels apart eyes
carefully
like sleepy oranges |
|
X. |
|
Fluorescent lights sterilizing the convenience store
compete with the milky light of the moon,
heavy on the heaving chest of the sky,
to see which is brighter
while
cars on slick rubber tires
peel away from the pavement,
drivers dreaming of warm bedrooms,
chased by rippling plastic bags,
ghostlier white leaves. |
|
V. |
|
sweating inside the silverware drawer
a dog whimpers for food—
the master realizes his dog
will starve in the event of
a power outage.
calling from the tips
of his fingers the master
pleads with the dog to come out of the
silverware drawer and lay at his feet
to keep them warm. |