Poem: Night Window

 

Night Window

a dog wavers on whispery leaves,

a whine-howl rollercoaster,

 

nothing to hold onto

in the drawn-and-quartered plea,

 

and yet i will not admit, 

tucked in bed,

that it forces me to pray.

 

so much absence of quiet 

so late in the silence:

 

stray chirps.  

deodar and ash rustles.

a lone rubber screech.

 

so much pregnancy of risk--

of feline rut,

chuffing semi-truck,

or gruff jet plane

haunts the ease.

 

funny how my lungs

interlap as easy as purls of a river,

measured in doses of breath.

could this sedative, i wonder,

override the night window’s 

fickle strays?

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8/26 ... 

8/1/24

deodar in my front yard as a kid