Sorrow is a Sort of Joy
Dawn fades in, slate-pink parody of day.
Insulated in sleep's hazy visions,
I stir my desire's cooling ash,
stumble crusty-eyed to check
the world
out my kitchen window. It's still
there--
green concrete and chrome as
usual.
On the black cast iron fire escape,
dingy sparrows cock their heads
as if about to sputter "preposterous!"
I contemplate the crackle
of tobacco. White smoke curls
through the sheet of light
that leaks past the yellowed
drawn shades.
The refrigerator lends its hum
to the orchestral traffic.
The cool, fat patter of rain
on the bathroom skylight,
squeezed from the sponge-damp
air:
"If I could share this with
you..."
The whirring camera squints its lens:
"Fade to shallow focus on
window screen,"
the screenplay says. The dripping
scenery
recedes to an incidental green
backdrop for an urban dream.
"That's a wrap" snaps
the stiff
director, and the hot lights
go off.
I pat my temples with a handkerchief,
and stroll out the studio door...
into the thin, divine heartache
of the distant blue sky.
poem written by JASON PAUL FOX. You
MUST credit my authorship when reproducing this poem in any way!
Violators are prosecuted, no joke!
I'm living off the generosity of plagiarists now!
(It's OK to give my poem to friends or people at school, if you credit me and
don't make money off it)
