NaPoMo poem #12
This is the twelfth of the poems I will be writing each day here in April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.
• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.
Morning in the Neighborhood
•
he lifts himself quietly
so quietly
from beneath the sheets
soiled with neglect
he makes his way carefully
past the shallow-breathed crumple
that lay milky-eyed in a heap
un-moving on the floor
save a twitch of the head
which head now harbors demons
where nocturne angels
of sweet release
laid down lush upon her
in fevered embrace
lustfully conjured
by last night’s spoon and lance
still skewered silver
in the soured vein
this wreckage is his mother
he stops but for a glance
verifying life
then moves on
head down
he angles to the bathroom
to the scum-brown bowl
to wash his face
a face lit sallow
by the yellowed bulb
that hangs bare and lonely
eyes of knowing
eyes of sadness
stare into the mirror
broken as his heart
in the dank foodless morning
of this ruined single room
he gathers up his books
steps lightly through the door
down the damaged stairs
into the hostile streets
heavy with a childhood
of strangled dreams
he ducks and dodges
in and out of shadows
his prayer
to once again avoid the evil
that lurks and slinks
among the garbage and graffiti
of these crumbled brickened canyons
seductive as a smile
deadly as a snake
evil
which if diligence should fail
will consume his youthful soul
deliberately he continues
until at last he finds his way
into the building
into the classroom
into his desk
into the only hope
to which this innocent
dare cling
• • •
rob kistner © 2009
___________________________
• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem
