voiceless
silence, a hole
burned in the night
where weight
of stars has neither
meaning nor heft
what falls burns brightly
for a time and disappears
tangled in a web
of dreams, my eyes
floating through viscous scenes:
sleek gray shark among
reeds, a woman
dancing on a crazy
table top as plates
skitter and crash
to the white floor
an apple glowing green
and red through wires
of an empty grocery
cart, a door without a
house, handprints
and a sidewalk stained
with colored chalk –
pastels, pink and green, yellow and blue
warnings in a child’s brutal scrawl.
—————–
Steve Klepetar teaches literature and writing at Saint Cloud State University in Minnesota. He is a six time Pushcart Prize nominee.