Pale Wire (Popscene)

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Tuesday morning, early August


After working the late shift last night, I slept in today and lounged in my bed with a collection of poems by August Kleinzahler, who was written up quite favorably in a recent edition of The Times. In a delicious bit of serendipity, one of the pieces captured my condition quiet well, though I did end up going to work.

Staying Home From Work

That is a mower from the city
you hear in the park
so mild a day no heat
nowhere to be till lunch
nothing to think
money
nobody
lie still and listen
like the boy did
long ago
listening to neighbors mow
sniffing summer through the curtains

Such care the city takes
not to let grass grow
too long
and should you fall again
to dreaming
no one will reproach you
or come seek you out
to put your off this sweetness
so rare
so minor a key were it music
if fabric
would come apart in your hands