Thursday, August 6, 2009

Verse: Willet St.

At first
it was hard

there was
the constant
braying of
and trucks
chasing each other
through the

the inelegant
insect drone
of the steadfast neons
and the electrical wires

the chorus
of drunken angels
who lamented
the empty isolation
of the early
morning hours

and, true
the incessent
tapping of rain
that always seemed
to arrive
before we were
firmly ensconced
in dreamland

but after a while
they all became
a kind of
white noise
a strange lullaby
that set me
spiraling Letheward

and the only
to my sleep
were the heat
of your breath
on my neck
you blindly
seeking me
while lost in
random reverie
and the excitement
of hearing
your heart
beating like wings
within your
soft, serene cage

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