Crumble like forgotten webs
Of summer’s hungry spiders.
I walk along a one-way street
And wonder when the moon will rise,
A roaming spotlight across this lonely night.
Scarecrow hands in a field nearby
Twitch of un-spit rain,
The sky spins a blue-pink mesh,
Lonely for a lover, perhaps Neptune.
And as I look across dayfall,
the stack of hay bales on a hill in the distance
Becomes a golden sphinx,
a close-mouthed cat that smiles his secrets.
I am as lonely as these trees,
The thick wood nearby shivering without
The lush of leaves and seed.
Where are you, the shrill spell of night birds
That whiz the bitter truth across
Closed windows of sleeping houses
Like a black Nebula, southbound?
The quiet is a hard, dull pull
That attracts me to empty things,
Things without beating hearts or hands for warmth…
ramshackled barns in their rusty wheels,
Church ruins without proper hymns or Gods,
And the abandoned grocery store near I75,It’s bricks as hollow as a thousand broken hearts.